I'm Ready For My Close Up
by Angel of Music lover
Summary: Hi, I'm Roger Davis. Within these carefully written pages are documentations of my life. Some memories are sad... some are happy. They all have to deal with life, love, and friendship. Care to take a look?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so this story is just going to be various events in the life of Roger Davis. Now I'm not promising that they'll go in any particular order, they may vary from his bohemian life or his childhood. Who knows? Anyway, I'm pretty much writing this because I need to get Roger out of my system because I'm working on a Mark fic but I keep writing too much about Roger so… yeah… lol! Please review and tell me if I should continue or not. So you know this particular chapter takes place in the midst of bohemia. I would say it's before he met April… yeah… **

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own RENT or Roger Davis… damn… **

I'm Ready For My Close Up

_Chapter One: The Duck Massacre_

Have you ever seen those documentaries where there are these crazy people that enjoy shoving cameras in the faces of lions or various other wild animals, trying to document their lives? Well my good friend Mark decided that he wanted to try his hand at that… and he also decided that I should come along to help. Normally I would have flat out refused and then locked myself up in a room and wrote a song. However, I did not expect him to go all "puppy dog eyed" on me… my weakness. I relented and tried to convince myself that I needed the fresh air. Mark originally woke me up at about seven in the morning so that we could get cracking on the _oh so exciting _filming. There was just one little problem however… a little miscalculation on his part. _I don't do mornings_.

(Flashback)

"Wake up Rog, it's time to go film something!" Mark called in what he thought was a singsong voice. Roger rolled his eyes and burrowed further into the mass of blankets and pillows. Roger vowed to himself that Mark would not succeed in getting him out of this bed.

"Go away!" he mumbled… though it came out more like "Mo aphway!" There came an exasperated sigh from Mark and for a moment Roger thought maybe his friend had given up. Turns out he had underestimated Mark's determination.

"Get up you stupid, lazy, ass!" Mark shouted while making the bed shake uncontrollably. Roger yelped and clung to the mattress for dear life, rather like a cat would sink its claws into a rodent of some kind.

"STOP. SHAKING. THE. BED. PLEASE!" Roger shouted in intervals since every other beat his stomach was being crushed back into the mattress. Roger clenched his teeth and was literally hugging the mattress in his frantic attempt to stay on. Mark finally stopped and let out a frustrated scream. Which is scary because Mark _never _screams.

"Just get out of bed please!" he bellowed and threw something heavy (most certainly _not _a baseball bat) where Roger's body was. Not a sound came from the bundle of blankets and for a moment Mark was worried. "Roger?" he asked hesitantly. Somehow he knew that Roger was up to something but then again… maybe he wasn't. There was a tense silence and then the same heavy item that Mark had thrown at Roger launched it's way back across the room, hitting Mark square in the nose. With a strangled cry Mark fell back, clutching his nose and hoping it wasn't broken. When he drew his hand away and saw it covered in blood Mark panicked. Roger chuckled heartily from under the blankets when he heard his best friend run from the room and turn on the bathroom sink.

"Peace at last," Roger sighed in contentment and once more fell into a deep sleep. Nothing would wake him that early in the morning… absolutely nothing.

(End flashback)

Really it's a wonder that all the screaming didn't wake Collins! That man can sleep through anything… if the house fell down around him I bet he would snore away. Anyway, I'm getting off track. Once I woke up and apologized several time to the disgruntled Mark, whose nose was NOT broken I might add, we headed out to go film some wild life. Unfortunately Mark forgot something else… we lived in New York City. There _was_ no wildlife. Mark very quickly solved the predicament though by dragging me down to the park where there was a certain pond with certain ducks in it. That was when everything went horribly wrong. Turns out not even a place where little children giggle and play is safe anymore.

(Flashback)

"I'm glad I thought of the park!" Mark commented as Roger trudged next to him. The taller man grunted in agreement but had to restrain his laughter when he got a look at Mark's nose all bandaged and taped.

"It'll make a great documentary," Roger agreed and smiled. Mark was an odd one all right… I mean who would think to document the ducks in the middle of a dirty park in Alphabet City? A desperate film maker that's who.

"I've always had a thing for ducks… they always seemed so… peaceful," Mark said conversationally. Roger laughed and glanced over at his friend again.

"And to think I always just thought of them as just a bunch of dull birds with the ability to swim," Roger joked. Mark grinned and shrugged at his friend.

"You always had a jaded view of things," he countered and was forced to sprint to avoid Roger's wrath. Before either of them knew it they were facing the pond and had nearly trampled a disgruntled looking duck. The mallard snapped his green head over to the two men and glared… how a duck can glare I don't know but this one did. He quacked at them in an annoyed manner and gave the half starved bohemians a disapproving look. Mark, of course, already had the camera out and was rolling film excitedly. It's certainly not every day that you have a grumpy old duck glare at you. The duck gave one last disgruntled quack and then waddled on his way pompously.

"Well that was one, big, fat…" Roger began but Mark shushed him.

"Shut up Roger, I'm filming!" Mark cried dramatically and ran to the pond shore. "Did you remember the bread?" Mark called, still filming. Nerd.

"Yeah, I've got the loaf right here!" Roger answered and quickly opened the plastic covering. "I hope you guys like Wonder Bread," Roger muttered and quickly took out a slice.

"Okay, good. Now just tear off little pieces and toss it in the water towards the ducks," Mark instructed. Roger rolled his eyes and glared at his friend. Honestly did he really seem _that _thick?

"I've done this kind of thing before Cohen… it's not like I was a deprived child or anything," Roger muttered and began to toss out little pieces of bread. The first one landed with a gentle _plop_ but it was just loud enough to get the ducks' attention. All multicolored heads snapped towards the fallen piece of bread and for a moment nothing moved.

"Roger… what do you reckon they're doing?" Mark asked excitedly. Roger was about to answer when suddenly the whole park was filled with the sound of frantic quacking. Ducks were flocking towards the bread in a large and rabid looking pack and began to instantly fight over the few pieces in the murky water. Roger cringed when he saw one snap his beak over another duck's head and shoved the poor thing underwater.

"Mark…" Roger began worriedly, backing away slowly from the shore. Mark pulled his eyes away from the little screen that you could see what you were shooting from and paled slightly. But in his eyes there was a maniacal gleam and he cleared his throat loudly.

"Throw more bread out there," he whispered. Roger shook his head furiously but as it turns out the rocker didn't even need to throw any more bread. The ducks had already devoured the little scraps that was there in the water and their heads all turned towards Roger… the obvious source of the bread. Without a moment of hesitation the ducks all dove straight for Roger with their yellow beaks snapping hungrily. Roger let out a yelp of fear and backed away quickly. Alas, it was too late. The ducks had all reached the land and were waddling as quickly as they could towards Roger, their little legs pumping furiously and their beaks jerking up and down.

"Mark! I'm… going… to… kill… you!" Roger shouted in anger and terror as the little beasts continued to follow the poor guy. Mark followed the ducks with an excited grin on his face, film still rolling while Roger was running for dear life, jacket flying out behind him. Roger had never been a runner but in this case he was a born sprinter. Little children dropped their toys and wandered curiously over to the spectacle… eyes wide with wonder. Not many kids got the opportunity to see a tough looking rocker with his tattoos and spiked hair… run away from a bunch of ravenous ducks.

"This is great Rog! Now try looking a little more terrified" Mark called happily. Roger was about to shout out a stream of curses except a duck bit him rather hard on the ankle.

"Owwww!" Roger cried as he saw that the duck had even drawn blood. Roger turned to give the duck a kick but instead tumbled to the ground having tripped over his foot.

Roger felt the ducks clamber onto his body… their little webbed feet digging and tearing as they bit at his fingers as to reach the bread. Roger whimpered and tried in vain to swat some ducks away. Finally, a little light bulb went off in Roger's head and he knew what he had to do.

"You want the freaking bread you little demons? Here! Take it!" he screamed and threw the whole loaf into the green water. The ducks all streamed after the bread, forgetting Roger, and immediately began to attack it while also attacking each other in their hurry. Both men watched in horror and fascination as the ducks ripped away the plastic and began to attack the increasingly soggy bread.

"Interesting reaction," Mark muttered and zoomed in on the frantically ravenous birds, eyes sparkling in amazement behind his glasses. Roger dragged himself to his feet… eyes twitching dangerously and lip curling. Mark didn't even notice his friend's hands clenching and unclenching as he stalked over to his friend softly.

"_Interesting reaction?_" Roger said evenly and softly. Mark turned his head fearfully to face Roger. In the other man's eyes there was a burning anger and a dangerous glint. This couldn't be good. There was a moment of silence before Roger reached over and handed Mark a solitary piece of bread. "I saved it just for you," he said in a low and threatening voice. Mark stared fearfully at the slice of bread in his pale hands and then watched as Roger walked away calmly and collectedly. The next thing Mark heard was the sound of curious quacks and he looked back to the lake to see all fifty beady eyes turned on him.

"No…" Mark muttered before the ducks all swarmed towards him. "No!" he cried in anguish and tried desperately to protect his camera. Further down the street Roger smirked in triumph while wails could be heard from the park.

(End flashback)

Turns out that every single one of those ducks died… something about over eating and then their stomachs exploding.

And also, Mark never looked at ducks the same way again. I suppose I haven't either… neither of us can even look at one without cringing in fear and horror. And that is the gory tale… of the Duck Massacre.

**A/N: So was it good, funny, ridiculous, terrible? Please review and let me know! I also welcome ideas! **


	2. Eww Cooties!

**A/N: Okay, I didn't get any reviews last time… though I didn't really wait that long… about a day or so… ANYWAY I really liked writing this so I'm just gonna update again okay? Lol! Anyway, if you're reading this story and like it PLEASE REVIEW:D Thank you! I'm going to say that this chapter is taking place during Roger's childhood… **

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own RENT or Roger Davis… I just own a few of his memories is all… **

I'm Ready For My Close Up

_Eww… Cooties! _

I think there comes a time in every man's life when he has to face the facts… the hard, cold, and cruel reality. And that, my friends, is that fact that one day you are going to be a personal slave. One day most men are going to find a significant other and then you are tied down for life. Cooking and cleaning and pleasing and overall just… just being a personal slave. Not that it's an entirely bad thing… I love Mimi who I think is my commitment for life… or what's left of it. I'm just making a point that there is always that one day when the cold truth washes over us like a wave… and for me that was in about fourth grade.

(Flashback)

"Come on Davis! Truth or dare?" Paul shouted one day at recess, watching the squirming Roger with delight. Paul seemed to enjoy the suffering and inner turmoil of other people… always the morbid one.

"Umm… do I really have to?" Roger asked nervously, not really wanting to back down from a challenge although Paul and his lackeys were known for really coming up with nasty and unthinkable dares. Paul grinned evilly and coldly down at the other boy with his gray eyes twinkling. The blonde boy cringed at this look but tried to maintain eye contact.

"Come on Davis, truth or dare?" he asked again evenly. Roger fidgeted, green eyes scanning the area as though looking for help. All the poor boy in the denim jacket could find though was a bunch of giggling girls and boys playing kickball in the far field.

"Okay, truth," Roger answered finally. Truth seemed like the only way out of this wormhole… or at least he thought so.

"Not an option!" Paul crowed and received approving smirks from his "friends". Roger started quickly and stared in horror at the dark haired boy.

"What? I just said truth and now it's not an option?" Roger cried in despair. Paul shook his head craftily and gave Roger a few tuts.

"Tisk, tisk Davis! I heard you loud and clear… you said _dare_," Paul suggested, raising his eyebrows menacingly. Roger just gulped and nodded quickly in understanding. Paul smirked again and tapped his chin mockingly. "I dare you to…" suddenly Paul's face had a look on his face as if he had just struck gold… which he probably had. "Kiss Susan G. Rider."

(End flashback)

That Paul was a real jerk I remember… always got away with everything and enjoyed pushing everyone around. This time though he had really taken the cake… although I suppose you would understand better this little boy's evil and morbidness if I told you why this was so terrible. You might think that Susan is just a girl but trust me that is far from the case.

Susan G. Rider was probably THE most popular girl in school. She wore the best clothes from the best designers, never was caught saying a nasty swear word, and she even flossed three times a day like you're supposed to! The girl was untouchable… if you even tried she would just give her thick brown hair a toss and cock a well manicured eyebrow at you. To even think of approaching this girl if you were of the opposite sex was terrifying, especially since her brother was in fifth grade AND was supposed to be a freshman. In high school.

(Flashback)

"What?" Roger cried, eyes wide in fear and shock. Everyone knew that Susan G. Rider was an unthinkable desire… no guy even trusted himself to want her. Although not many guys had that problem… it _was_ only the fourth grade and cooties were the big deal on campus.

"You heard me Davis, I dare you to kiss Susan G. Rider," Paul grinned. The cruel boy laughed coldly as Roger had a mild panic attack.

"But that would involve me… actually touching her!" Roger cried in evident distress. Just the mere thought of it made Roger's flesh crawl. Paul just smirked again and pointed dramatically to where there was a cluster of gossiping girls.

"Either go over there Davis… or back out," Paul said coldly, eerie smile still in place. Roger's breath caught in his throat and his heart started to hammer wildly. Her brother wasn't at recess because he was a fifth grader… but the fourth grade recess was coming to an end. Soon the fifth graders would be coming out… but if Roger timed it just right.

"All right… all right… I'll do it," Roger agreed wearily. Paul looked almost surprised at this sudden agreement but instantly remained stoic. Roger timidly got to his feet and his heart was now beating wildly and painfully. He was sure that everyone in the whole playground but Roger continued forward nonetheless.

"It's gotta be full on Davis!" Paul called one last time before once more falling silent and watched his prey. "Davis is a dead man," Paul sniggered to his friends.

(End flashback)

I didn't know at the time that things were said about me… gossip or rumors I guess you could call them. Susan G. Rider told her friend Stacy that she liked me… a lot and then Stacy told Casey and Casey told her brother Peter, and it spiraled around. Apparently the last one to hear was me. It certainly would have changed my mind about this dare… I would never have done it in a million years had I known. As a general rule boys are terrified of the girls in fourth grade… and I wasn't just holding to tradition. I was truly and genuinely terrified. Anyway, back to the events at hand.

(Flashback)

"Susan… Susan look!" a little blonde girl giggled at her friend. Susan glanced up and saw Roger walking nervously to their group, eyes constantly roaming as though checking for intruders of some kind.

"Oh… I wonder what he wants?" Susan asked curiously. True she had thought he was cute last week but now she'd moved on to other people. It was fun to have crushes but know that you were untouchable… it certainly gave you a different sense of the word "date".

"What are you up to Davis?" Casey, a little dark haired girl, asked with a slight sneer in her voice. Roger was pale and trembling but he ignored little Casey and headed straight for Susan.

"Roger Davis what is going…" Unfortunately Susan G. Rider never got the chance to finish that sentence because at that moment Roger kissed her. Well… I wouldn't say kiss… I would say more like hastily jerked down towards her, brushed his lips against her, and then ran away. Susan hastily began to rub her mouth while muttering, "Eww… cooties!"

(End flashback)

After that I was a social outcast because Susan… well let's just say that Susan G. Rider has a lot of social power. I think I mainly became an outcast because whenever any other girl approached me her friends all gained up on her and pretty much would terrify the poor girl. Then at the same time Susan would ignore me which would mean that everyone else would follow her lead and ignore me too. I never played Truth or Dare again.

**A/N: Well… that was fun to write because it was kinda cliché but it still reminded me of elementary school… lol! Please review and tell me what you think:D **


	3. In The Eyes Of a Young Girl

**A/N: A big thanks to my first reviewers on this story, OnTheLineFeline, blue.nails.of.an.angel, and of course hersheygal who has never seen the movie or play but still tries to understand what it is I'm talking about… lol! This is going to be in the midst of bohemia… **

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own RENT or Roger Davis… but of course it's a very different story in my dreams… hehe… **

I'm Ready For My Close Up

_In The Eyes of a Young Girl…_

I admit it… I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. Most of them took place however during my reign as the Rock Sex God. I was all high and mighty… sitting on top of the world with a bunch of stoners and drunks worshiping the ground I walked on. And like a normal person I let it get to my head… let's just say that there's lots of women in this town that really get around. But then I met… _her _and I was instantly in love with this stranger in a dimly lit bar… swaying to the music. I was in love with her vibrant short red hair, her smile, her nice green eyes, her pale skin, the sound of her laughter, and on top of all that she seemed like she actually had a mind of her own. None of these simpering smiles and batted eyelashes that I usually got from girls. She was the real deal… and unwittingly I signed my life away so that I could get closer to her.

(Flashback)

A young redhead allowed her excitable friend to lead her to the front of the massive pack of screaming fans. The bar was small and smelled strongly of cigarette smoke but apparently her friend didn't seem to mind. And for some reason neither did April.

"Look… that's the blondie I told you about!" Jenna squealed as she pointed to the lead guitarist. April rolled her eyes, Jenna had a new obsession nearly every other week, but when she turned to actually look at the man all time seemed to stop. Just for a moment. They accidentally locked eyes and it was like the sound was turned off and the people around her had froze in their positions. He smiled at her and then turned back to his playing… resuming with the song.

"April! Apriiiiiiil!" Jenna cried, waving her small hands in front of her friend's face. "Are you even listening to me April?" April started out of her daze and all sound and movement resumed… crashing around her like a bomb.

"I'm sorry… what?" April said distantly, trying to focus on her friend again. Jenna rolled her dark eyes and began to speak slowly as if April was hard of hearing.

" I… said… that… I… can… meet… him… after… the… song…" Jenna explained again while making exaggerated hand motions. April blushed furiously at the thought and gave her friend a wide smile.

"Any chance of me coming with you?"

(End flashback)

We met after the band finished playing… she had a friend with her that quite frankly terrified me with all her flirting. Luckily she moved onto the bass player and left me alone for a while… free to talk to April. I found myself tongue tied and unable to think of something to say to such a nice girl. The only girls I had experience talking to were… well… not really interested in talking.

(Flashback)

"Sorry about Jenna… she's a bit of a flirt when she's drunk," April apologized sweetly to the blonde rocker. Roger smiled warmly at her and shrugged the apology off like it was a fly.

"I've experienced worse… unofficial groupies and such," Roger laughed, making a joke of the situation. April giggled a little and looked away hurriedly. She had been staring a little too long at his smile.

"It must get a little annoying… having people hang on you all the time," April commented, eager to make a conversation. Roger started out of his thoughts for a moment and looked back at her with a little less warmth in his eyes.

"You know… sometimes this does get really rough. Always the pressure and the perfection are put on me as the bandleader. Sometimes I just want it all to go away…" Roger's voice trailed away until the two were swallowed in silence. An idea had sparked into April's mind… although she had always been called a good girl she had one addiction… one obsession that got her through all of her rough times. She was surprised that Roger hadn't already discovered this escape.

"I know what you mean… I get really stressed out too and it gets pretty overwhelming," April responded conversationally. Roger looked at her again and was struck by how beautiful she was. Something seemed to be on the tip of her tongue though and April looked as if she was debating whether to tell him something or not. "I have a way out." Roger looked at her in puzzlement. When she looked up at him again though somehow he thought that whatever escape it was it had to be safe… if it was good enough for this girl had to be brilliant.

"I'm up for anything at this point."

(End flashback)

It was at that moment that I used for the first time… the first time when I felt that rush of peace and tranquility. All at once I regretted it because I knew that now and forever I was hooked. From the second that I plunged that needle into my arm I was a goner. But April was there, telling me it was okay and that she used a lot too. That we would face the world together… me, her, and the smack. I ate it up then and I loved her to death while she was alive. Really looking back on it the few most romantic and blessed times I've had with April was when we were firmly on the ground and not on some kind of sick joy ride. I wish now that we had more of those moments instead of floating around in space all the time. Of course, that wasn't the worse part of the needle. There were other punishments.

(Flashback)

"I'm so sorry Roger… I could only get a hold of one needle," April explained breathlessly as she approached Roger again. The crazed man looked at her and shook his head wildly… desperately.

"I don't care April," he cried hoarsely and stared at her with hungry eyes. "I need it… hurry," was all he said as he watched his girlfriend fill the needle and prepare to inject it. He watched painfully as she continued to slap her arm so a vein would show, the seconds dragging on and on forever and for eternity.

"God could you hurry up you…" Roger began but before he could finish the sentence April had given a cry of triumph. Eagerly she pushed the needle in and allowed the wonderful sensation to take over. Instantly her frenzied breathing evened and her eyes glazed over. With a little giggle she handed the bag and the needle to Roger.

"Here you go baby…" she murmured. Roger snatched the bag ravenously and quickly set the needle to his arm. Soon he was in another world where stress wasn't important… to where he didn't have to always deliver his best. He could just float and be free and for a moment Roger didn't care how sick he would be later on. He just cared about now and how blissfully fuzzy everything seemed.

Little did the cute redhead or the Rock Sex God know that a deadly disease had also been shot into Roger's blood stream along with the drug. Neither of them even suspected that April was a carrier and that she had unwittingly doomed her beloved to a shortened life that was filled with sickness and death.

"See baby… everything's perfect now. It's all alright…." April whispered as the drug took over her body. "We'll be okay… you and I. We have our whole lives to live." Roger grunted an agreement, not even quite aware as to what he was agreeing to.

"Let's go somewhere…" Roger muttered painfully as the two staggered to their feet. The laughed mechanically and started their first moments as a doomed couple… they had signed their lives away.

(End flashback)

Like I said… I was foolish in those days. I blindly followed a pretty girl right into hell and didn't even realize it until it was too late. What's worse is she didn't know she was the one pulling me closer to death. She thought she was helping me ease the pain.

I occasionally wonder if I had the choice and knowing what I do now… would I have still followed April to that alley behind the bar… would I have traded her love for my life. And what frightens me is that usually the answer comes out as a hesitant yes. I would have given her up entirely if it meant I didn't have to live with the guilt or the disease. I loved April with all my heart… at least I think I did. It's really all just a haze of smoke, lights, and a pretty smile.

**A/N: Oooh! The first really dark chapter so far in this story. Once again, please review and let me know what you think and I'll even kindly take suggestions or requests… :D**


	4. Hell Hath No Fury Like A Roger Scorned

**A/N: I'm back… finally. I got busy with school and that "fun" stuff so… yeah… excuse the slight delay. Thanks again to OnTheLineFeline and hersheygal! You guys rock! This is pre-bohemia! **

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own RENT or Roger Davis… basically anything or anyone you don't recognize is probably mine. **

I'm Ready For My Close Up

_Hell Hath No Fury Like A Roger Scorned_

You're all probably wondering how I met my main man Marky… right? Well it is an interesting story, involving broken glasses, a fight during the lunchroom, pea soup, and handshakes. Maybe not the pea soup one so much, but it was kind of fun to just throw in there. Anyway, it was a hot and humid day when I met Mark my first day of middle school and I've never regretted it.

(Flashback)

"Okay honey, now be careful in there," a kind blonde woman cautioned, flattening her son's hair subconsciously. "It's a lot different from elementary school… the classes are harder, the kids can be rougher…" Roger's mother's concerned voice trailed away as Roger pulled himself away from her.

"Don't worry about it mom… I'll be fine," Roger reassured, giving his mother a pat on the shoulder. Mrs. Davis sighed that was mixed with sadness that her boy was growing up and pride of how mature he had become. She gave Roger's head one more flattening and then finally backed away.

"I'll meet you at home then," she said and slowly went back to her car. Roger waved as his mother drove away and then reluctantly made his way to the front of the school. If there was one thing that the twelve year old hated, it was school. Roger's ears perked up though when he heard what sounded like a fight going on towards a far corner, away from the principal's office. With a frown, he made his way over there cautiously as he didn't really want to get mixed up into it at all.

"I said I was sorry!" a soft voice pleaded, voice barely carrying over in the air. There came several harsh sounding chuckles and Roger's pace quickened.

"Well sorry can't really excuse your face now can it Cohen?" a haughty voice sneered. Roger finally rounded the corner and found a scrawny blonde haired boy being cornered by none other than Paul. The same Paul that had tortured Roger in fourth grade and even into fifth and sixth. Of course, Roger didn't recognize the smaller boy but his heart automatically went out to the poor thing, who was looking like he was ready to vomit right then and there.

"Hey Paul, leave the guy alone!" Roger said calmly, not wanting Paul's cronies to turn on him as well. Paul swiveled around and his gray eyes narrowed in delight.

"Well look at what the cat coughed up boys!" he cried gleefully. "It's ickle Davis come to try and save the day!" Paul sneered while his buddies snickered behind him. "Too bad we'll have to put a damper on his plans!" Roger twitched but otherwise remained unmoving.

"Come on Paul… I bet this kid didn't even do anything to you! Just lay off him!" Roger insisted firmly. He wasn't eight anymore and Roger hoped that meant that Paul didn't scare him like he used to. Paul nodded his head towards the other boy and the two goons went over to where Cohen was behind the wall. Immediately one held Mark firm against the wall while the other gave a punch right to the face. There came a loud _snap_ and a pair of glasses fell to the ground, shattered and completely useless.

"My glasses!" the boy cried as he tenderly held his nose. He tried to go pick them up but the two lumbering idiots held fast against him. Roger's blood boiled and before he knew what he was doing he had run up to one of the clones and gave them a good smack. The one stumbled back in surprise while the other one gave an indignant roar at seeing his friend being hit like that. In a second Roger was left to fend for himself against the two enraged bullies.

"Shit," he swore softly and quickly tried to dart a fist flying at his face.

"Oh come on pretty boy! Can't manage to get a little bloody?" Paul cried as he watched the scene unfold. Roger suddenly froze, fists clenching and unclenching dangerously with a hard glare forming in his eyes. "You're so worthless Davis! You don't even have the guts to take on these goons!" Paul crowed in glee. Roger trembled and then turned furiously on the two boys and began to just lay on punches right and left.

"Jesus Christ!" Cohen cried, watching in awe as his savior totally beat the crap out of the two idiots. Inspired, the scrawny boy (I'm pretty sure by now we all know it's Mark… am I right?) got up and stumbled over to one of the cronies. Unfortunately he didn't get far as he still didn't have his glasses, leaving him blind as a bat.

(End flashback)

When it was all said and done I had two gashes on my face (one needed stitches), various bruises littering my body, a split lip, and a nearly broken nose. I have to say that the goons came off worse… both of their noses were actually broken. Not to mention Paul, who had various black eyes and various cuts in his lips and face… he never bothered me again. Not to mention that I was in the worst trouble of my life… my mother blubbered on for hours at how she couldn't understand that her "sweet and innocent baby had the nerve to actually hurt someone!".

(Flashback)

"I can't say I understand what Paul here could have done to make you so angry!" the principal exclaimed, staring harshly across at me from his desk. Roger shifted in the hard chair, he wasn't used to being up in the Principal's Office for being in trouble. He did manage to become very much acquainted with it though in the years to come.

"Well… at first he was picking on some kid… Cohen?" Roger said, asking for verification of the child's name. The Principal nodded distractedly and prompted Roger further.

"Are you friends with Mark?" he asked impatiently. Roger shook his head and grinned oddly.

"Never even met him before," he chuckled. The Principal's eyebrows shot into his hairline… well almost.

"So… why exactly did this upset you then?" he asked, growing frustrated with this boy's excuses. Roger shrugged and searched his mind for an explanation.

"I think… it was just the principle of the thing… I mean… Paul has been picking on me through all of elementary school," Roger said slowly, still trying to comprehend it himself. The Principal just remained silent and unreadable for once. Roger swallowed hard and continued on. "I think I might have retaliated so strongly… because he called me worthless," Roger choked out lamely. The Principal only nodded, mulling things over it seemed.

"Well it seems to me that you were provoked… so I'll sentence you to a week of detentions…" the Principal declared firmly. It was Roger's eyes to raise into his hair… this certainly wasn't what people told him principals were like.

"That's it?" he asked in disbelief, awe showing on his face. The Principal nodded calmly, looking amused.

"Yes Mr. Davis… that's it. That is of course, if you would rather the sentence be longer I can arrange it," he said, obviously straining to keep a straight face. Roger shook his head, got up, and went for the door. "And take yourself down to the nurse while you're at it… you're a mess," the Principal added, grinning.

(End flashback)

Yeah… I always thought that principal had a soft spot for me. I would always get into the worst of trouble… pulling pranks and terrorizing teachers. Yet, he seemed to always find a way to reduce my punishment and in return I never did anything worse than harmless jokes or pranks. It was some sort of unwritten code or treaty between us.

Anyway, that day I also gained a friend… and his name was Mark Cohen. He may have been a skinny little nerd but he also had a great sense of humor… and we kinda bonded. I stuck up for him against bullies and he helped me with math. Then we would just hang out, talking and joking with each other. I know it sounds lame or cliché… but I really think that just this experience brought us together. I guess fate has a sense of humor after all.

(Flashback)

As Roger exited the nurse's office and was preparing to head home for the day, a familiar face rushed over to him.

"Hi! I guess you're Roger!" a young boy exclaimed, somewhat bashfully. Roger grinned and stuck out his hand.

"Yup, that's what they call me. Though all I got from your name is Cohen… you got a first name or are your parents hippies?" Roger asked good-naturedly. The boy grinned and timidly answered.

"My name's Mark… I just wanted to… well I guess I… thanks!" Mark finally blurted out. Roger chuckled softly and gave the other boy a light shove.

"No problem, you don't need to make a big deal out of it!" Roger joked. Mark grinned in relief and laughed a little.

"I think that one will need stitches," Mark pointed out bluntly, motioning to a gash on Roger's forehead. Roger reached up and touched the bleeding wound on his head.

"Yeah… that must be why they called my parents," Roger said conversationally. Mark blushed a little and shifted uneasily.

"I'm sorry I got you so hurt…" he mumbled apologetically. Roger shrugged and sobered up for a moment.

"Don't worry about it Mark. I had some history with that guy anyway and he had it coming," Roger assured. Mark still looked guilty but let the matter drop. Roger glanced through the office window and started a little. "Looks like my mom is pulling in… so I'll see you tomorrow?" Roger asked. Mark looked really surprised but he smiled nonetheless.

"Sure!" Mark managed to spit out. Roger smiled and headed towards the door where he could see his mother power walking, looking ready to explode. "I'll warn you though!" Mark called suddenly, causing Roger to turn. "There probably won't be anyone else there!" he explained sadly. Roger just grinned and shrugged nonchalantly.

"I don't like big crowds anyway," he called back and then turned once more to the door. He had tackled down bullies and it was time for him to face his next foe… his angry yet at the same time terrified mother.

(End flashback)

Me and Cohen have been tight ever since. Many warned us that high school would come and we'd drift apart… but no such luck. We were friends for life… and still are as a matter of fact. Something about that nerd just makes it impossible to shake him off. Anyway, that's how I met Mark. At first my mother didn't want me to hang around him because he, and I quote, "brings out the rebellious side in me". Of course, that ended as soon as she got a good look at him. My mom has a thing about scrawny kids… it must awaken some sort of odd maternal instinct that includes her shoving various cookies and rich foods down said scrawny kid's throats. Mark never seemed to mind however… and the amazing thing is that no matter how much my mother force fed him Mark never once gained a pound more then he needed. He remained bony and small. Some people have all the luck.

**A/N: Well that's it! I hope this seems believable… although I don't think it quite flows like the other chapters did. Ah well… let me know what you thought! **


	5. Randomness with Mimi Marquez

**A/N: It's been a little while and for that I apologize… I have WAY too many stories going on to keep track of some of them. Anyway, thanks as always to OnTheLineFeline and hersheygal! My faithful reviewers… oh and also I never saw the actual play version of RENT so if something in here sounds wrong (like the fact that Roger's parents were already dead or something) then I am REALLY sorry:D**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own RENT or Roger Davis which means I don't own Adam Pascal… does that about cover everything? I do however own some of this memories… just some and they are based on things that I don't own. All this legal stuff is so confusing. **

I'm Ready For My Close Up

_Randomness with Mimi Marquez_

As many of you know, Mimi is my girlfriend… my star in the night, the light that light's my way, my voice of reason, my… yeah you get the point right? Well one of the things I absolutely love about my Mimi is her unfailing ability to lighten a mood with absurd randomness. Sure, usually she's rather serious and constantly preaching her "No day but today" stuff when I refuse to take the clothes to the dry cleaner. But there are times when she is blissfully absurd and instantly distracts me or whoever she happens to be with at the moment from whatever terrible incident just occurred.

(Flashback!)

"What do you mean she's dying?" Roger barked, looking pale and out of sorts. The pale and cold looking doctor on the other end of the desk just cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, causing his obvious toupee to shift ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this now Mr. Davis but… your mother has just had a severe heart attack. Most don't just walk away from that unscathed… in your mother's case it's caused her heart and a few other organs severe trauma," the doctor explained carefully… very matter-of-fact like. The calm and slightly monotone tone accompanied with such awful words was enough to drive Roger mad.

"But… no… she can't actually be…" Roger's voice faltered as he stared off past the doctor to the cold steel doors… knowing that at that moment his mother was probably gazing at similar doors.

"I know… it's seems so unreal when something like this happens to you or someone close to you," the doctor said in his false sympathetic tone. He then glanced down at the clipboard, patted Roger sadly on the shoulder, and then moved off into another room. Roger followed the man to see where he was going and saw that he was going to go visit a mother who had just given birth. Hot tears stung his eyes as the irony hit him… one person received a death sentence while another received life.

"I'm sorry sir but we'll have to ask you to come back later," a friendly yet exhausted female voice said, breaking the stunned silence. Roger started and turned to look at the young nurse before him, smiling sadly.

"Yeah… sure…" Roger replied agreeably… too shocked to really say otherwise. Picking up his signature jacket Roger slowly walked away towards the hospital entrance/exit and knew that if he couldn't talk to his mother he needed to speak with Mimi.

(End flashback)

Bet you weren't expecting that were you? Yes, my mother's heart attack was so stressful for me as for the people around me. Mark always tells me I'm a total ass when I'm worried about something. But Mimi was there for me… I guess I had forgotten that in my frenzied terror I had called Mimi's apartment, left a message and quickly explained before hanging up again. She was there waiting for me in the Loft, hoping that I would be coming home soon.

(Flashback!)

With leaden footsteps Roger walked up the metal stairs, counting each metallic beat echoed against the forlorn walls. In a detached sort of way Roger realized that his brain was numb… everything was numb and unfeeling. He distinctly remembered stubbing his toe on one of the stairs but he didn't flinch nor feel the impact. Robotically he slid the door open and flopped on the couch, only realizing that Mimi was there too when there came a low grunt from somewhere underneath him.

"Roger?" came a muffled response and Roger slowly got back up. This gave Mimi an opportunity to sit up straight and move over so that Roger could occupy the other half of the seat.

"Mimi," Roger replied evenly. Mimi felt something cold strike her heart to see Roger so down, but she didn't let it hinder her.

"How's your mom doing?" she asked sleepily, seeing as how her sweet nap had been rudely interrupted. Roger sighed wearily and allowed his head to flop back against the thin cushions.

"It was a severe heart attack," Roger recited without really realizing it. "It caused severe trauma to her heart and a few other vital organs… in short she's going to die." Mimi's silence was deafening and echoing out through the whole apartment. Mark seemed to be gone on some errand or another so there was no familiar 'whir' of a camera to keep the two company.

"Oh Roger…" Mimi finally whispered, gently placing a hand on Roger's stiff shoulders. Roger swallowed some kind of large lump in his throat but otherwise seemed unresponsive. Mimi smiled gently and gave him a little shake. "It'll be all right Roger… your mom is a strong woman and I'm sure she won't be afraid of whatever happens," Mimi said, hoping to comfort the distraught rocker across from her.

"It's not her I'm worried about Mimi," Roger said hoarsely, turning then to look at the beautiful dancer next to him. Mimi made a small sobbing noise and pulled Roger to her sympathetically, holding him while his heart was throbbing painfully.

(End flashback)

In this case Mimi knew that she couldn't be sarcastic or random… it was too serious for that at the time. Still her just holding me did a world of good… I don't think I'd let anyone do that for me since I was very young… but soon it came time where I was tired of moping and Mimi shone through for me brilliantly.

(Flashback)

Several days after Mrs. Davis's sentence Roger was still a walking, talking, breathing solemn statue. Mark and Mimi had tried just giving him his space but soon that turned out to not be enough for the distraught Roger.

"Hey Roger," Mimi said cheerfully while giving Roger a peck on the cheek. He grunted in response. Mark sighed and turned back to his stale and milkless cereal, not wanting to have to go through another painful and unrewarding conversation between Roger and Mimi. "How about that weather huh?" Mimi said brightly, shivering for effect.

"Haven't known it to be so cold," Mark added helpfully, causing Mimi to beam at him. Roger just grunted again and turned back to the windows. Mimi was silent for a moment, thinking of something to say. Finally she leaned an arm around Roger and leaned in so she was sure he could hear her.

"Kiddy Carnival," Mimi said simply. Roger was surprised by this sudden and random outburst and glanced over at Mimi.

"Kiddy Carnival?" he asked quietly. Mimi grinned and pulled away so that she could use her wonderful saleswoman skills.

"I hear that there is this marvelous and totally exciting Kiddy Carnival being set up just down the street by Marv's Deli," she giggled, glad that the surprise had brought Roger back out. "There will be mass amounts of low-grade cotton candy, corndogs, games that will rip you off every single time, and rides that obviously don't meet the State Safety Requirements," Mimi continued, waving her arms dramatically. In spite of himself Roger let out a ghost of a smile at her antics. "I was wondering Mr. Roger Davis if you would be so kind as to accompany me at such a spectacle," Mimi asked, grinning all the while. Roger smiled back and nodded.

"That Ms. Marquez I would be glad to do," he said softly, voice strained from lack of use. Mimi let out peals of laughter, hugging Roger giddily.

"Thank you good sir," Mimi added, shot a look at Mark, and then danced off to go get dressed. Roger looked over at Mark and shrugged as if to say 'What can ya do?'.

"Tell me how long you can remain sullen with a girl like Mimi always around," Roger said, a small smiled playing at his lips. Mark laughed and got up to toss his bowl in the sink for him to wash later… though Mimi probably would finally do it for him.

"Excellent point my friend," Mark agreed, shaking his head. At that moment Mimi burst back into the room, fully dressed and make-up applied.

"Come on Roger, you have to look nice for out date," she insisted with a grin and then danced back down to her own apartment to wait. Roger groaned and went to go get dressed in yesterday's clothes.

(End flashback!)

My mother died a week after that but somehow… it was okay. I had Mimi at my side during the funeral, holding my hand firmly allowing me to lean on her a bit. I have to admit it was the hardest thing I ever had to experience, what with my father on the other side of me looking close to tears himself. I don't think I ever saw my uptight and military father get emotional in his life, but I guess love does things to people. I looked over at Mimi and wondered if I would have to go through this again sooner than I ever thought… and it made me regret every moment I had spent moping about over my mother. Once again I was firmly reminded of 'No Day But Today'… it seems I had allowed my own selfishness step in the way again. As if she was reading my thoughts Mimi gave my hand a squeeze and looked up at me, her eyes telling me not to regret.

When we got home from that I decided I wouldn't give Mimi a chance to say something incredibly random to cheer me up. I wanted to do that on my own.

**A/N: Well I finally brought Mimi into the story… I know this probably wasn't as lighthearted as the title suggested but maybe I'll make a little sequel that is happier. :D Anyway, please review and let me know what you thought! **


	6. Ode to Bleached Hair

**A/N: Thanks again to OnTheLineFeline for all of her lovely reviews and for putting up with the extremely long waits in between chapters!! This chapter is dedicated to her since she always reviews this story!! I promise Hersheygal the next chapter shall be dedicated to you in some way… since you too are awesome!! So if there's someone else reading this story, review and you might get a whole chapter dedicated to you!!! This is probably be during April time though I don't think April will be making an appearance. **

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own RENT which means I don't own Roger or Adam. :D **

I'm Ready For My Close Up!

_Ode To Bleached Hair_

I admit, I have a rebellious streak. I've always had it, even in childhood, as I'm sure you have noticed. Probably the most popular argument in my home growing up was my hair. My father firmly insisted that my hair stayed the same length and the same color at all times… and that was an order. He was in the military doing something or other… he never really talked about it, so I was sure to obey his commands. Especially on the hair, for whatever reason he was the most adamant towards that issue. Must be a military thing… I hated having a crew cut as a kid.

(Flashback!!! Woooooh!!!)

"Mom, tell him I don't want this cut!" a young teenage boy cried out desperately, practically clinging to his mother. She just smiled sadly down at her son however and patted his head kindly.

"Now we both know what your father thinks about hair… there's no changing his mind now," she said in a cheery voice. Roger rolled his eyes and pulled away, obviously disgruntled. His father just beamed down at him and ruffled his hair.

"Just consider yourself lucky that I let you play your guitar," he boomed, laughing happily at having finally won an argument with his son. Roger scowled and mumbled something about not being able to become a Rock God with a crew cut. "Exactly my point boy!" Roger sent another dirty glare but still pulled himself to his feet when his name was called.

"Roger Davis?" a slightly aged woman called out, wearing an apron of some kind. Roger sighed and shuffled to the seat that the woman was ushering him to, sending back the occasional sad face towards his mother. She just pursed her lips and shook her head firmly at him.

"Now what are we getting done today Roger?" the old bird asked, practically chirping. Roger just mumbled something about a crew cut and waved his hands towards his proud hair for effect. The woman frowned however and examined Roger's hair more closely. "It's a shame to cut off this proud mane now isn't it?" she said more to herself than anyone but complied anyway. Before long she was prattling on about various family members and laughing at her own jokes. Roger just sat quietly and watched as the hair came off in large clumps.

"_One day I'm going to have my own hairstyle…"_ Roger promised himself. If there was one thing he couldn't stand it was the thought of his father actually… (shudder)… winning.

(End flashback!!!)

I suppose it goes without saying that my father and I had a slightly strained relationship. But then again, most teenagers refuse to get along with their parents anyways. Really he was a great guy, it's not like he abused me or my mother. My parents were madly in love and we all cared very much for each other so it's not like I went all "emo" and cut myself all the time because I was _happy_. It was just I inherited stubbornness from my father and we always butt head with each other. I just thought I would make sure that was clear because some people always expect the worst when there comes a strict father and a rebellious teenager.

Anyways, there soon came the day when I had done what I was required (four years in high school) I was more than ready to head out of the nest. I don't think my father ever really approved of my guitar playing so he tried his hardest to get me to go for a college degree. Unfortunately for him I wasn't budging.

(Flashback!!)

"Won't you please consider NYU Roger? You know that you're smart enough to get in," the weary older man asked again. The youthful senior shook his head slowly, tired of giving the same answer every time.

"No Dad… I don't want to go off into college to become a scientist or a doctor… I just want to play," Roger pleaded again, wanting his father to understand.

"I know that's what would be more fun, but what happens when you're not young anymore?" his father countered craftily. "No one wants to listen to tunes by some old, washed up, potbellied, wannabe play rock tunes!" Roger scowled and felt his anger rising up in steady torrents.

"Then I'll become famous… so famous that people won't care if I'm old or not just that my playing is still great!" Roger hissed, feeling very spiteful. "And when my name is in all of the newspapers and all over the music channels you'll regret that you ever considered to send me off to NYU!" The two men stood facing each other and fumed silently.

"I just want you to be well off Roger," his father finally said, looking rather hurt. "Please… just try applying to this college and a few others of your choice…" When Roger just shook his head firmly his father sagged in defeat. "Why?"

"You might be right that going to college would be smarter… and I know that being a Rock Star only has fifteen minutes of fame," Roger finally began carefully. "But you can't stick me in a desk with a suit and tie because… it would kill me." There was an awkward silence and Roger's dad shook his head.

"I don't think that's true Roger," he said quietly and then left the room. Roger noted that he had managed to leave some college applications in plain sight for him. With a disgusted snort Roger dumped them into a nearby trashcan, went to his closet where his guitar was kept, flopped onto his bed, and began to gently pick out random chords. The dark blue comforter was soft beneath him and Roger distinctly remembered that his mother had changed his sheets that morning to his favorite blue, white, and black plaid ones. And his fingers continued to pick the strings of the guitar as he allowed his mind to wander.

(End flashback!!)

I think it's best to just get out and say that we were both major asses. My father and I just couldn't agree on hardly anything and we wouldn't allow ourselves to see the other's points. I tell you, I was so close to just going off to college like he wanted me to just to make everything okay again but I refused to let myself. I knew that I was going to be getting out of there in a short time so I allowed that thought to drive me.

When the day finally came that I was able to move out I can tell you I was out like a shot. I just couldn't wait to be on my own and start a new life, and I of course brought my best pal Mark with me. Let me tell you, there were days when we were freezing and starving on the streets but it was always Mark who called his parents. I never once did. But then came the wonderful day when we found the Loft and well… that's a different story in itself.

(Flashback!)

"Roger, do we have any beer?" Mark called from the kitchen frantically. Roger rolled his eyes and eventually hollered back when he pulled his head from the sink.

"You know we don't Mark!" he snapped and then turned to face the bathroom mirror. There came an exasperated sigh from the kitchen and then more clanging.

"Well excuse me for trying to make a decent dinner for your parents," Mark shouted indignantly. "It's not often they even call here so I figure them visiting should be a big deal." Roger staggered out of the bathroom with a towel around his head and came to face Mark.

"Don't worry about it Mark… they aren't expecting much, trust me," Roger replied soothingly. Mark could certainly stress out and he occasionally needed a soothing voice to bring him out of his psycho mode. Mark sighed and threw his hands in the air.

"Well whatever but when _my _parents come over we are going to make a much bigger effort," Mark snapped and strode from the kitchen to finish up the preparations. On the table there sat some hamburgers that clearly came from a drive-through window and McDonald's and a few cups of water accompanied by some tattered napkins and dirty forks.

"What's under the towel?" Mark asked randomly as he finished up unwrapping the hamburgers and setting them on whatever plates he could find. Roger grinned and pulled it off.

"A little surprise for my dad," he explained motioning to his hair. Mark's jaw dropped as he beheld the sight.

"He's going to kill you Roger," he muttered, still barely daring to believe it. His best friend had bleached his hair to an impossibly light shade of blonde and had it spiked as an act of defiance.

"I know."

(End flashback!)

Needless to say, my father flipped, we got in a shouting match, my mother and Mark ate their hamburgers in silence while we fought, yadda, yadda, yadda… we all go home unhappy. You might expect me to say "Oh I wish I had handled that differently," or "I wish I could take that back," but quite frankly that day is probably one thing I don't regret. I had the freedom to tell my own father to just bugger off and that he can't control me in my own house. You have _no _idea how awesome it was to see my own father at a loss of words.

I haven't seen him much after that, but then of course I was busy for a while with my druggie phase. I still get the occasional phone call though, the polite "How are you" or sometimes he'll ask me how I'm doing after withdrawals and I'll ask him how the military is going. And some how, I'm okay with that.

**A/N: Yay! There it is then… please review and tell me what you thought!!**


	7. Out Tonight!

**A/N: Okay… I just posted this morning but I really felt like writing more (amazing isn't it?)!! So hersheygal, I know I promised you the next chapter so for the moment this chapter will be dedicated to you… unless you can PM me and let me know a certain memory you would like to be in here.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT… the unfortunate Johnathon Larson does… rest in peace!**

I'm Ready For My Close Up!

_Out Tonight!_

I know this might sound ridiculous or maybe it will make me sound like an overly sensitive jealous baby, but I can't stand Mimi's job. Really, can you blame me? Especially since she happens to work at a strip club with tons of gross old men… anyway, it's caused a few quarrels between us. She thinks that I'm being over sensitive about the issue but I insist that it seems a bit of a dodgy job.

(Flashback!!)

Roger sighed as he glanced at the clock for the upteenth time. The minutes seemed to be dragging on for an eternity… the hands seemed to never go past 10:30 p.m. Wait a minute, time can't possibly go _that _slow could it?

"_Oh yeah… it's only been broken for about five years Roger,"_ he mentally scolded himself. "Shit," he swore and flopped his head back on the couch with a slight grunt of dissatisfaction. That probably meant that Mimi was late coming home from work again. Not that he didn't trust _her _exactly but he sure as hell didn't trust those old rich men. With another sigh Roger kicked the creaky floorboards in an attempt to amuse himself.

"Oh stop it with the pathetic noises Roger," came a floating voice from the kitchen. Mark emerged into the "living room" type area and took a seat next to the distraught rocker. "Mimi isn't home yet I take it." Roger turned his head and shot a look at his friend and then allowed his head to face the door again. "Point taken."

"It's just she's always late and I can't help but wonder what exactly her job is…" Roger complained, in a way pleading with Mark to help him.

"Well then the solution is simple then isn't it?" Mark prodded, hoping that way Roger would get the idea. Right on cue a little light bulb seemed to go off in Roger's head and he leapt to his feet.

"I go to the Cat Scratch Club!" he declared and dashed off to get his coat. Roger was back from his room in a flash and was heading out the door. Before he left though Mark managed to throw some words of wisdom at his slightly hot headed friend.

"Don't do anything stupid Rog!" Mark called. Roger poked his head back into the Loft and smiled convincingly.

"Me? Do something stupid? Oh ye of little faith." And with that the door snapped shut and quick footsteps could be heard going down the stairs. Mark shook his head and began to search the sofa for last week's copy of _The Village Voice_. He would need it for when Mimi came home to yell at Roger all night.

(End flashback!!)

Good old Mark with his all knowing ways. So I was on my way to The Cat Scratch and it was only half way there that I realized I didn't really have a plan. What would Mimi think if she saw me sneaking around a gentleman's club? Probably nothing good I can tell you that. So I decided I would sit at a table, look for her, and then either wait for her to get offstage or if she already is then firmly walk her home. There was absolutely no reason for her to be working that late. Or at least, that's what I thought at the time. Who knew that a perfectly reasonable plan could go so horribly wrong?

(Flashback!!)

Roger glanced around nervously in the dimly lit club… actually there WAS light but it was the strobe light that accompanied the half dressed women on the stage. Thumping music overwhelmed his ears as well as the shouts and jeers from practically every man in the club. Trying to keep his eyes respectfully averted, Roger began to wade through the packed room. Unfortunately a waitress hindered his process.

"Well can I help you sir?" she asked sweetly, taking a moment to examine the obviously uncomfortable Roger. "A rock star huh?" she asked before Roger could respond to her first question, fingering his hair. Roger quickly swatted her hand away, causing the beautiful girl to draw back, obviously offended.

"I'm looking for my _girlfriend _Mimi Marquez," Roger answered and stressed the word girlfriend. A look of recognition came across the waitress's face and her previously hurt expression changed to one of brightness.

"Oh yes, she's a dancer right?" When Roger nodded she continued to babble on. "I believe her shift is close to being over… though she's probably just now getting ready to get on stage," she said helpfully and Roger smiled nervously at her.

"Thanks for the help." Then as quickly as possible without seeming too rude Roger took off towards a table in the front.

(End flashback!!!)

Well… in spite of being a little too flirtatious that waitress turned out to know what she was talking about. Mimi went on stage not too long after I found a seat and I guess she saw me right away because she stumbled a little coming out. Oh, and she mouthed a "you are so dead" to me before picking back up on the dance routine. I of course, just smiled and waved cheerfully at her. Maybe that would teach her to work late all the time and leaving me alone with Mark and his annoying camera. Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worse.

(Flashback!!)

Roger grinned as Mimi and the other dancers did their thing and for a moment he forgot that the room was filled with those creepy old men. That was soon forgotten.

"Hey that's hot stuff there!" an elderly gentleman next to Roger cheered and gave a few wolf cries. Mimi did her job by flashing him a smile and a wink but soon she had to turn back to other customers.

"Show some respect man," Roger snapped dangerously at the man, eyeing him angrily. The man just laughed at him and downed a few drinks.

"You don't come to this place to be respectful sonny!" he exclaimed and then turned back to his buddies. Roger rolled his eyes and slouched in his seat, barely managing to keep from snapping at the rest of the jeering crowd.

Soon though Mimi was allowed to dance away from the stage as another girl took her place. With a heavy sigh of relief Roger darted away from his table to go meet up with Mimi, eager to get away from the flashing lights and deafening music. Apparently Mimi was way ahead of him because she was now storming towards him with a sour look on her face. Luckily she had pulled a coat modestly over herself.

"Roger Davis!" she hissed, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him off to a quieter spot. "What the hell are you doing here?" Roger found it odd she wasn't yelling at him in Spanish… that's always what she did when he did something that made Mimi mad.

"Well you're always working so late so I decided to come see you…" Roger explained, adding a little bit of sugary sweet tone underneath. This couldn't keep Mimi from smiling a little and she swatted his arm.

"Well that's sweet Roger…" she started but was cut off by a tap on the shoulder. It was the same gentleman from before that sat next to Roger.

"When you're done with him I'm more than willing to go next," he slurred, smiling and swaying drunkenly. Roger was almost going to be mad at Mimi, thinking this was a regular occurrence until he saw the look of surprise and hurt on her face.

"Excuse me," she began vehemently but the man cut her off again.

"Oh come on sweetheart, I'm willing to pay you decently." Roger stood there fuming for about half a second, his hands clenching and unclenching with that dangerous glint in his eyes. The man never saw Roger's fist coming towards him, that is until he connected with his jaw and sent him flying.

"She happens to be my girlfriend ass hole!" Roger shouted. With an arm draped protectively around Mimi Roger escorted her from the building and didn't look back.

(End flashback!!!)

Huh… I just now noticed that I always seem to do that whole hand thing when I'm angry. Anyways, Mimi was so grateful that I went to meet her at work because she knew that situation could have gotten sticky otherwise. I was happy too because then I knew that I could totally trust Mimi, just obviously not her boss who never seems to be around to keep an eye on his dancers. And Mark didn't have to put up with our arguing all night. So all in all I think it was a good night for everyone… except for whoever the jerk was.

**A/N: Kind of a random chapter… please review and tell me what you thought!! Oh and something interesting I wanted to share, in the last chapter I mentioned Roger's bed as a kid growing up. That was based of a dream I had where I went to his parent's house for some reason and they told me that "Roger isn't here right now, he's off in Alphabet City, but you can use his room while you're staying". Yeah… and that was what it looked like… lol!!! Just thought I would share. :D**


	8. Choir of Doom?

**A/N: I am soooooo sorry about the wait!! This chapter is dedicated to hersheygal since she gave me one of her own childhood memories to base it off of:D So sorry Hershey if I got the teacher wrong or the ages or something. I could ask you but didn't really feel like it. Anyways, please read and enjoy!! This will be taking place during Roger's childhood. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT or Roger, which means I don't own Adam Pascal. (nervous twitch) **

I'm Ready For My Close Up

_The Choir of Doom!_

Growing up I think it would be safe to say that my mother had a warped view of me. She saw me as a little boy who delighted in washing my hands and making sure that my shoe laces were straight at all times of the day. Unfortunately I was a bit more excited about life than that and was constantly trying to find ways to express myself. So one day my sweet, but confused, mother heard me in my room when I was in about third or fourth grade trying out some singing. It wasn't anything serious, just a rock song I had heard on my father's radio the other day and had taken a liking to but to my mother this opened up all kinds of possibilities. So she sneakily did something that I had no idea was coming. She signed me up for choir.

(Flashback)

Roger Davis looked around nervously before hesitantly opening the door before him. He was afraid that someone would see him walking into the choir room, of all places! He would just die if someone like Paul caught him in the act and was given decent teasing material for practically the rest of the year. Which was another ten months.

"I hate my life," the nine year old grumbled and hastily slipped inside the door. Before him he saw a horrible and possibly permanently scarring sight. A room full of annoying, giggly girls and one other unhappy little boy met Roger's eyes and quite frankly it terrified him. With an unhappy sigh he took a seat next to the lonely looking boy and gave a weak smile.

"I'm David," the dark headed boy said softly and held out his hand for a handshake. Roger grasped the other boy's hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Roger," he replied seriously. Just then the choir teacher walked into the room and beamed at all the children. She wasn't quite young but she wasn't old either. Her blonde hair didn't show any streaks of gray but there were creases next to her eyes, as if she had spent a lifetime of smiling. Roger cocked a blonde eyebrow at her. As kind as she seemed he wanted to pin the blame on someone for his being there so he decided to choose her.

"Welcome kids to the exciting world of choir. I'm your teacher, Mrs. Smith," the woman said lightly and proceeded to ask each child to say their own name. Something about wanting to get everyone acquainted properly. Roger highly doubted that sitting a stupid circle and repeating their names to the other kids was going to help them be each others best friend.

"Hi, I'm Kate and I LOVE CHOCOLATE!!" one blonde little girl squealed and the other girls around her tittered excitedly. Roger rolled his eyes but when his turn came he of course participated.

"I'm Roger," he said gruffly and averted his eyes from the gossiping girls. It reminded him way too much of Susan G. Rider, something he would rather not recall.

"I'm Stacy," another girl piped up next to Roger and so the next ten minutes went. Finally Mrs. Smith stood up and began to talk about the choir schedule, which Roger was happy to tune out. All he remembered was something about a Christmas concert during, when else, Christmas. He also obediently took a copy of the schedule to show his parents to sign saying that they don't have any conflicts with the concert dates.

Roger prayed to whatever's out there that there were too many conflicts.

On the way out however Mrs. Smith stopped him to say how much she appreciated him coming.

"I could tell you didn't really want to be here today Roger and I want to thank you for giving choir a fair chance," the kind woman said. Roger just nodded and put on a convincing smile.

"Yeah, it should be lots of fun," he lied smoothly. Mrs. Smith beamed at him and then turned to Kate who seemed to want to babble about what she was going to wear to the Christmas concert.

(End flashback)

So from then on David and I became friends during choir practice. We didn't become BEST buds or anything but we kind of _had _to like each other if we were going to survive the Christmas concert. So from the first meeting I spent my time avoiding the numerous bars of chocolate flung at me from Kate and her friends and dodging around singing solo in front of the teacher.

But then… something happened about three months before the Christmas concert that changed my life.

(Flashback)

Roger gave a sigh and began to head back to the choir room. Choir had gotten out early that afternoon but he had left a folder containing important homework on his chair. So, with a heavy heart, Roger reopened the door and opened his mouth to give an excuse to his reappearance. Though the sound of skillful guitar chords quickly shut his mouth as well as the sound of a female operatic voice filling the room.

Mrs. Smith looked up to see the intruder but smiled warmly when she saw Roger standing in the doorway.

"Oh hello Roger… I was just playing one of my favorite records," she explained sweetly and motioned for the boy to come closer. Mesmerized by the music, Roger slipped into a chair closest to the record player and listened intently. Mrs. Smith smiled and moved the needle back on the record and starting the song over.

"What is it called?" Roger asked softly, finding his voice at last. Mrs. Smith looked up again as she too had been lost in the music and replied just as softly.

"This song is called Musetta's Waltz from the opera La Boheme." Roger must have looked confused for Mrs. Smith began to explain in a hushed tone. "Musetta is trying to attract the attention of Marcello but he ignores her. By the end of the song though, he succumbs to her." Roger was once more silenced by the music and the lyrics that he couldn't understand.

"_Quando men vo soletta per la via, _

_la gente sosta e mira_

_e la bellezza mia tutta ricerca in me_

_de capo a pie'…"_

_Marcello_

"_Legatemi all seggiola!_

_Musetta_

"…_ed assaporo allor la bramosia_

_sottil, che da gli occhi traspira _

_e dai palesi vezzi intender sa_

_alle cculte beltá. _

_Cosí l'effluvio del desío tutta m'aggira, _

_Felice mi fa!"_

Roger sat in solemn silence. Part of him wanted to ask what the Italian singers were saying but the rest of him felt that he didn't really didn't need to know. Finally as the song came to a close Roger looked at his teacher.

"Could you teach me that song… on guitar?" he asked nervously. Mrs. Smith frowned slightly.

"Sadly I don't know the guitar Roger," she replied regretfully. "But I do know someone who teaches it… perhaps you can ask your parents to take you to him." Roger nodded and took the business card that Mrs. Smith handed him absent-mindedly.

Ever since that incident Roger began to grow fond of the perky choir teacher.

(End flashback)

I suppose I fell in love with that when I heard the guitar musical interlude. It just totally blew me away and for the first time I really began to appreciate the effect that music can have on people. I instantly became good friends with Mrs. Smith and I threw myself into choir because for the first time I really realized that singing was fun. Of course, I was always cautious so that Paul would never find out but that didn't stop me from totally worshiping the choir.

Needless to say Mrs. Smith opened my eyes up to so many things around me. And I _did _learn the famous guitar piece from Musetta's Waltz in time. But before I could ever even perform it for her something happened. She was leaving the state.

(Flashback)

"What do you mean you're going away?" Roger cried as a sad looking Mrs. Smith relayed the news of her moving to him during one of their after school meetings. He would grade papers for her and she would have him listen to all of her records. She smiled at him and tried her best to explain.

"Roger, my husband got a job in a different state. I have to go with him," she tried to explain. Roger nodded dejectedly as he placed the last graded paper on the neat pile he had created.

"But the choir…" Roger protested weakly.

"I won't be leaving before the concert and after that a new choir teacher will be hired," Mrs. Smith countered quickly. Roger frowned and instead turned to look at the record player.

"I'll miss you," he finally responded. Mrs. Smith smiled and placed a hand on the troubled youth's shoulder.

"You are one of my best students Roger Davis and I will probably never meet another fourth grader with as much potential as you." Roger smiled at her then and walked over to his backpack. "How is Musetta's Waltz coming?" the teacher asked suddenly. Roger shrugged before responding.

"I'm starting to get it." And with that Roger left the room with a slightly heavy heart.

(End flashback)

I actually saw her again… Mrs. Smith I mean. I was playing a gig at a bar with my band mates and as I was taking a quick break I saw her and her husband there. She looked much older now and several of the other young people at the sniggered at the couple. But I couldn't laugh with my friends because I had recognized her. I think she recognized me too because she smiled really sweetly at me before turning back to her husband to whisper something to him.

And I'm sure you know what song I played in between our two "big hits" "Decapitation Hurts" and "Piss Off Mr. President". And I think she cried but then again I couldn't really tell. I just knew that I was so happy to have finally played it for my old choir teacher Mrs. Smith.

**A/N: Okay… I think that was a little weird. But I personally liked the outcome a lot (wow I really dramatized your memory hersheygal huh?? Lol!!) but let me know what you thought!! I'm actually in a very Roger mood so I might be updating A LOT sooner than I did this time. I promise. **


	9. The Camera Has to Go Man

**A/N: I was actually writing a Harry Potter fic when all of a sudden "Another Day" came on because I was listening to my soundtrack and I just HAD to write another chapter for this story RIGHT NOW. Sadly, it took me a while to find a subject to write about, but the inspiration was there at least. Anyway, this will be in bohemia and I will try to focus a little more on Roger's friendship with Mark since I haven't really touched on that for a while. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Roger. ($!!!) Okay, I'm in control now. **

I'm Ready For My Close Up!

_Mark, You're a Brother to Me, But the Camera Has To Go_

Mark is my best friend in the whole world, no question about it. We've been through hell and back together. He put up with my wild rocker days and I put up with Maureen without complaining too much. Mark even helped me through my withdrawals and held absolutely nothing I said or did against me. So the guy is really special to me as you can probably tell.

Well one day, there was something that caused me to be… well… jealous. Mark went out one day to get, and I quote, "Something I've been saving for a whole month!". I of course just grunted and remained a lump on the couch. I had just survived an incredibly grueling band practice the night before so I didn't really want to bother with whatever crazy scheme my amigo was up to. Imagine my surprise when he finally came home after nearly four hours of being in the outside world.

(Flashback)

"Hey Roger, I'm home!" Mark announced and slammed the sliding door that was the entrance to the Loft space shut. Roger winced at the loud sound the door made (like he always did… for some reason it _always _caught him by surprise) and looked up from his spot on the lumpy couch.

"Finally man! What took you so long?" Roger asked and slowly got up to see Mark's findings. Mark grinned happily, boyish gleam and all, at his roommate and quickly pulled out something from his bag.

"It took me hours of looking, but I finally got it!" Mark cried triumphantly. He turned around to face Roger and revealed an old fashioned camera and presented it to the Sex God before him. Roger wasn't really sure what to say so he pasted on a smile and decided to indulge his friend.

"Wow! It's a camera! I didn't know you were a director!" Roger teased gently and punched Mark in the arm. Mark tried to hide his wince upon the impact and sent a small glare towards his physical friend.

"I took a few classes in high school, remember?" Mark explained and looked at his friend hopefully. Roger leaned his head back and all of a sudden he remembered. He recalled Mark's mother boasting about with pride to all her friends that her little son, _Marky_, was going to become quite the little filmmaker because of the classes she enrolled him in.

"Oh yeah! And your mom strutted around like a proud mother hen for the whole time you were in those classes!" Roger exclaimed and let out a short bark of laughter. "Well come on, let's give it a try!" he insisted and Mark complied easily.

"I've always wanted one of these," Mark breathed in excitement as he continued to set up his new purchase. "It doesn't record sounds, but it has an amazing picture," Mark continued to babble on like this during the entire setup process. In fact, Roger was close to tearing out his hair. But he refrained from doing so because he felt that he owed it to Mark since he himself always went on about the band and whatever song they were performing next for hours on end.

"Oh come on, film something already!" Roger whined and gave Mark a light shove. Mark laughed and waved his friend away distractedly.

"All right, all right! It's ready." Mark then lifted the camera up and instantly all of his old classes came back to him in a rush. "November 13, 1971. I, Mark Cohen, will here on out solemnly swear to make a kick ass movie with this very camera that will make the film gods cry tears of joy," Mark narrated in what Roger later called his "director voice". "Zoom in on Roger Davis, the reason that I'm wasting this film because he wanted me to film something right away."

"Hey!" Roger protested, "You weren't kicking and screaming about the idea!" Mark laughed as Roger made a disturbing face into the screen of the camera. "Dude it is so cool to see you behind the camera like that!" Roger was really only telling part of the truth… he could imagine Mark getting completely obsessed with this thing.

"Okay, let's find something more interesting to shoot than Roger," Mark said and dramatically moved off to the kitchen, ignoring Roger's indignant cries. "Here we have our pathetic excuse for a kitchen. In case you haven't noticed, we're bohemians with not a single penny to our names and will die as nobodies," Mark explained grimly.

"Yeah, but we had one hell of a time living!" Roger exclaimed in the background and raised his hand as if he were giving a toast.

"Hear, hear!" Mark responded and flashed his friend a smile. "On to the rest of the apartment then."

(End flashback!)

Oh sure. The camera was all cute and fun then. The little whir that the gears inside of it made were cool sounding and expressive, but let me tell you. Those little noises that the camera made and Mark's funny narrations only lasted so long before I began to get tired of it. And incredibly jealous of the time that Mark was spending on it.

(Flashback!!)

Roger sat opposite a small, mechanical camera and sipped his coffee. He couldn't help but notice that the device seemed to be mocking him in some way and it caused Roger to stare at it in slight horror.

The long morning silence prevailed as Roger continued to sip his too strong coffee and stare at the mechanical device that was currently occupying Mark's spot at the table. The toothy mechanical grin was slowly becoming more than poor Roger could bear as the minutes dragged on… and on… and on…

"Mark likes me better!" Roger finally snapped and turned in his seat to face a wall instead of the camera. Just then Mark came down the hallway and could have sworn he heard Roger talking to himself at the kitchen table where he had left his camera.

"What was that Roger?" Mark asked curiously as he completed his journey to the table and snatched up the camera protectively. Roger jumped a little in surprise to see Mark standing there and cradling the camera in an almost motherly gesture.

"I was just reminding myself to pick up April at three," Roger covered quickly. "And don't coddle the thing Mark! It's incredibly disturbing." Mark just stuck his tongue out playfully and slipped the camera into its special bag.

"Oh, you mean April like the girl that you met a couple a weeks ago at a gig?" Mark questioned and Roger nodded, smiling. It had been a little over two months since Mark had gotten that damn camera. Roger could remember the duck incident that had taken place during those first few weeks of ownership and smiled again.

"Well I'm gonna go shoot some stuff outside," Mark said while grabbing a paper cup of coffee. "I'll see you later and have fun with April!" he called behind his shoulder and gave a quick wave. Roger waved back and then slumped in his chair.

"You've been filming crap for nearly 48 hours in the last three days," Roger muttered to himself and carried himself to the couch lazily. "Don't worry, I'll just sit here by myself," Roger said as if he were talking to a Mark that was still hanging out in the doorway.

_He likes the camera better than a struggling guitarist Roger. _

"Shut the hell up."

(End flashback!)

So yeah, I was a little insecure about where Mark placed me in his group of friends. I was pretty sure that the camera scored higher than me in that area. I mean, Mark practically carried the thing to bed with him and took it out to lunch! I just thought there simply wasn't enough time for me in Mark's new filming schedule.

Then I had an epiphany of some kind while I sat there and amused myself by staring at the ceiling for hours on end. I needed to get Mark a girl to get him away from the camera. And I knew just the girl.

(Flashback!)

"Oh come on Maureen! He's a really great guy!" Roger pleaded and held the arm of Maureen Johnson, drama queen of Alphabet City.

"I don't know Roger," Maureen said distantly as she tried to briskly walk down the street with the rocker attached to her arm. "I don't even know the guy." Maureen and Roger knew each other from a brief gig that they did together a while back and the two had clashed personality wise. Still though, Roger thought that Maureen would get along great with Mark. She was controlling and he wasn't so they completed each other.

"He's my roommate, Mark Cohen. He's also an aspiring filmmaker!" Roger had thrown this last piece of information into the open as a sort of last resort. He didn't know though that Maureen's eyes would light up in such a way of her face take on such a star struck look.

"He likes to film people?" she asked giddily and gave a little skip. Roger was so thrown off that for a moment he didn't reply.

"Yeah! You know, he's sitting on some great movie material right now and just needs the right chick to star in his movie!" Roger said manipulatively, hoping to get Maureen to take Mark out on a date.

"Is he any good?" she asked before also adding, "And is he sweet?" Roger grinned widely and waved his hands for dramatic emphasis.

"He's one of the best I've ever freaking seen Maureen. And he is the sweetest guy you could ever meet." Roger actually didn't know what kind of a filmmaker Mark was since he refused to show anything that was unfinished. Which was pretty much everything he had ever worked on. Maureen seemed to think for a while longer before shaking her auburn curls and turning to face Roger again.

"I'll do it." Roger gave a whoop of joy and gave Maureen a fierce hug.

"That's excellent Maureen! I promise the second you see this guy you'll be madly in love with him!" Roger cried and ran down the street towards his apartment. Maureen stood in the middle of the sidewalk and stared, baffled, after a man that she thought had been such a dignified rocker.

"Men," she muttered and headed off towards her own home and wondered what Mark was like.

(End flashback!)

So then a very long infatuation began. Just as I had thought, Maureen and Mark had taken off like a freaking wildfire. They laughed with each other and drank profusely while Mark told her funny tales of his filming experience and of his friendship with me. I had brought April with me to make it a double date and she and Maureen also hit it off. I was happy as can be for a while.

Then Mark became with _filming _Maureen. But that, my friends, is an entirely different story that has almost no relation to this one. And it is a story that I might want to get violently drunk before exploring again.

**A/N: Kind of an odd little chapter I guess. I wasn't really intending it to play out quite the way it did but hey… writing can be unpredictable. So please drop me a few reviews!! Thanks!! **


	10. Enchantment Passing Through

**A/N: Hey all! I was planning on doing a happy April/Roger chapter but I was at a bit of a roadblock with that one. So I thought up this one concerning Angel and Roger right before Angel dies. Not as a pairing, in case that sentence gave that impression. :D Off we go now. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT or Roger Davis. I do own some of his memories though. I also don't own the title of this chapter. It belongs to the creative minds of Aida (there's a funny story about how I came across this musical… but I won't waste your time with it now.)**

I'm Ready for My Close Up!

_Enchantment Passing Through_

When Angel got sick it's safe to say that it was like someone dropped a bomb on all of our lives. We were all fighting with each other and it was if it were a sign for us to get over ourselves when it happened. Angel was like the innocent lamb that was sacrificed for the greater good of all. Thinking about it like that though makes me sick. Why should she have had to have been sacrificed?

Anyway, everyone was always visiting Angel in her hospital room. And just like in any scenario when a person falls seriously ill, some people visited more than others. I found I had a hard time going down there and looking at her so feeble in that disgustingly white room. So I visited only when I needed and tried to ignore the fact that I was wasting time.

_(End flashback!!)_

"Hey, we were all gonna meet Angel at the hospital. Want to come?" Mark asked the strumming guitarist by the window with an unconcerned air. Roger swung his head to look at Mark as if considering for a moment.

"I'll swing by a little later okay? I've got some stuff I have to take care of first." Roger hoped that Mark didn't hear the quivering undertone in his voice. Mark just nodded and headed out the door.

"We'll expect you later then," Mark repeated as if he didn't really believe the words. Roger went back to strumming casually until the door slid shut with a CLANG. Heaving a heavy sigh Roger set the guitar on the ground next to him. He then proceeded to stare at the ceiling and asked himself why he was doing this.

"Why can't I just drag my ass down there and see her?" Roger mused out loud and tapped his fingers against his stretched stomach. Hadn't had anything to eat for a while now.

"_Because you can't bear to see Angel look like that. Because you are weak,"_ a chilly and dark voice in the back of Roger's mind answered. Secretly Roger agreed with this voice although he would never speak the words out loud to himself. _"And besides… Mimi will be there and not only will you have to face one truth but two. Mimi looks a little pale doesn't she? She looks a little thinner than usual right? Her eyes are bloodshot and those eyes stare at you with such longing and hurt…"_

"SHUT UP!" Roger roared and in his rage kicked his guitar so that a loud TWANG emitted from the strings. "Shit…" Roger swore and picked his guitar up tenderly to see if any damage was done to it. Cautiously he played a few notes and grimaced at the terrible noise they made. After a few more choice words and silent tantrums Roger was silent again, staring up at the ceiling.

And so the hours passed as Roger fell dozed off and on fitfully. Whenever the dreams did come however it was Angel, Mimi, or April swimming in the darkness of his closed eyelids.

…………………………

Roger jumped as the door slid open and defensively pushed up on his palms and snapped his head towards the entryway. Luckily, it was only a bewildered Mark that met Roger's squinting eyes.

"Well hello to you too," Mark grinned and walked over to the table to set down his camera. "We missed you today." Roger grinned sheepishly and motioned to the window seat quickly.

"Sorry man, I fell asleep. I had a little trouble snoozing last night so I guess my body was making up for that," he lied smoothly. Mark cocked an eyebrow but didn't say anything about the obvious tall tale.

"Well Angel says hello and wanted me to tell you that she thinks about you," Mark said tonelessly and wandered towards the kitchen. Roger nodded distractedly and lowered his eyes in guilt.

"I'll swing by there tomorrow or something," Roger offered and heard Mark grunt in reply. Roger didn't ask what the grunt meant or if Mark had heard him or not. He just thought about what the hell he was doing. "I think I'll head in early tonight," Roger mumbled and stumbled off to his room. Mark watched him go in concern, a frown etched deep on his face.

_(End flashback)_

You could say that I had reached a brand new low. I was feeling pretty bad, kicking myself for being such an ass and yet not quite willing to stop being one. It is much easier to just ignore your mistakes than to actually confront them if you ask me. Yet by morning I was ready to try and face some of them at least and go visit Angel at the hospital. For once I was ready to keep a promise.

_(Flashback!)_

A polite young nurse smiled up at the rocker before her desk. Even though she noted the deep and dark circles beneath his eyes and bedraggled state his long hair was in she decided to ask if he needed help anyway.

"Hello sir! Is there something I can help you with?" she asked in a loud and cheerful voice, hoping to spark some sort of interest. Roger just looked up blearily and nodded.

"Do you have an Angel Dummot Schunard?" Roger asked, tapping his toes somewhat impatiently. The pretty blonde smiled warmly and turned to face her computer.

"The name sounds familiar but I'll have to check to see what room he's in," the kind nurse replied.

"She," Roger wearily corrected without thinking anything of it. The young woman flushed slightly but quickly acknowledged the mistake.

"I'm sorry, she," she apologized and finished up typing in her computer. "Yes, Angel happens to be in room 307. Are you a relative?" Roger shook his head without even thinking about it.

"I'm a close friend," he explained in slight frustration. Roger just wanted to get in there and see her before he changed his mind and ran like a bat out of hell. The blonde frowned however and looked at Roger suspiciously.

"I'm afraid we can't let in strangers without consulting the patient first," she warned, hoping that this would throw the potential imposter off. Roger just nodded and smiled wanly.

"Please tell her that Roger is here," he insisted, motioning down the hall. The nurse sniffed a little but walked briskly down the amazingly clean hallway, shooting suspicious glances back at Roger all the while. After several moments she returned with another sunshiny smile pasted to her face.

"She's eager to see you Roger," she chirped and led Roger quickly down the hall. "She wishes to visit with you until you are ready to leave. I must warn you though." The nurse then turned with a grave expression on her face and glared at Roger sternly. "Angel is very fragile and you may not recognize her right away. Be prepared for that." Roger nodded but for a moment seemed unable to follow the kind woman to the room.

His feet seemed glued to the white tiles and Roger's throat felt so dry. Everything inside of him screamed at him to run out and bail while he still had the chance.

"_You don't have to do this to yourself Roger…"_ something in his subconscious told him. _"You can run away and not have to deal with this."_ Roger shook his head though tears began to sting in the back of his eyes. He knew that he had to do this now… or he would be completely lost.

"Sir?" the woman asked, a hand placed gently on a door handle. "Are you alright?" Roger looked at her through red and tearing eyes but nodded anyway.

"I'm ready," he said in a hoarse voice and shuffled into the room. Unfortunately the sight that greeted Roger in that Clorox scented room was enough to make Roger want to bolt once again. Angel was lying on a small hospital bed with all sorts of wires, air filters, needles, and anything else you could imagine surrounding her and even protruding from her body. She no longer had her wigs or makeup but was instead clean-faced and smiling softly.

"_Oh my god…"_ he thought silently to himself. Yet somehow his feet carried him even father into the room until he had taken a seat next to Angel's bed.

"Hi Roger!" Angel said brightly from her bed and pressed on her palms so that she could sit up straight. Roger let out a weak smile and leaned in closer.

"Hey," he responded softly and continued to look at her pale and weak face. "How are you holding out?" he choked out through a slowly closing throat. Angel waved a newly polished nail as if to dismiss the question.

"I'm doing just fine… I wish everyone would stop asking me though," Angel responded with a wide grin. Roger let out a short laugh and began to feel a little more at ease. In reality seeing this scene before scared the crap out of Roger. Would this be what he would look like when it was _his _time?

"You look great," Roger said and motioned to her fingernails. "I see that someone had the urge to paint those for you." Angel smiled yet again and held her hands out before her to examine the paint job.

"Yes… Mimi was in here a couple days ago and brought my favorite nail polish with her," Angel explained with a wide grin. Roger couldn't help but notice that the smile was becoming strained and that Angel's eyes seemed slightly glazed over.

"That sounds like Mimi," Roger responded softly; pain once more striking his heart. Angel's smile slowly slid off her face when she heard this. She looked over at the exhausted rocker and slowly reached out to touch his hand with her own.

"And how are _you _holding up Roger?" she asked softly with concern. Roger looked up and their eyes met briefly… slowly dying green clashing with silent yet hopeful brown. He just sighed and shook his head wearily.

"I'm doing okay… I've been a lot better before but… I'm hanging in there," Roger responded unconvincingly. Angel let out a long breath through her nose but squeezed Roger's hand comfortingly.

"Been there and done that," Angel replied with a small smile. Roger nodded distractedly as he looked at Angel's face intently.

_(End flashback)_

Suddenly it was as if we weren't in a hospital room… one dying of illness and the other dying of loneliness. We talked about each others pasts and discovered that we never really knew each other. Angel seemed to know all about April though… I suspected that Collins finally sat her down and told the entire story. I would always be grateful to him for that because I wouldn't have had the strength to explain at the time when we first met Angel.

I learned that Angel's family had disowned her when they found out her little secret. Angel learned about how Mark and I first met and how we came to be in Alphabet City. She also learned all about my band and little embarrassing details about Mark and Maureen's fleeting relationship. In turn she would tell me about how life in New York was a hell of a lot better than living in the streets of Mexico. To which I would respond, "Well Scarsdale wasn't a picnic either." She found that strangely hilarious.

Time passed and the nurses occasionally interrupted us to help Angel go use the restroom or giver her medication. I just waited patiently and assisted whenever I could because I knew that Angel would do the same for me. It was a good way to spend an afternoon However it slowly became time that we acknowledged that topic… that unmentionable conversation that I had been needing for so long. And I think Angel needed to have this conversation just as much as I did.

_(Flashback)_

"Sweetie, would you pass me some water?" Angel asked sweetly. Roger eagerly complied even though he knew that it was code for "Would you please bring that cup to my lips and help me swallow it." Once Angel had finally swallowed the last bit that Roger had offered she tilted her head and smiled. "Thank you."

"No problem," Roger replied and smiled warmly. There came a long silence that was really only slightly uncomfortable. So much had passed between the two of them in those few hours that they were now close friends instead of just occasional friends. That scared the hell out of Roger too.

Angel stared at Roger in curiosity during the silence and Roger tried to act like he didn't notice. Finally, Angel took a deep breath, exhaled, and then came out with the thrice cursed statement.

"Why are you doing this to Mimi?" Roger jumped a bit, not really expecting the question out of Angel of all people. A faint roaring sounded in his ears and for a moment it seemed like his brain simply couldn't wrap around what exactly Angel was saying to him. When the storm finally cleared the words rang loudly in Roger's ears, forcing him to comprehend and eventually respond.

"What do you mean?" he finally asked through a dry throat. Angel pursed her lips and looked Roger Davis square in the eye.

"Why are you pushing her away… and why now?" Angel repeated in a more firm tone. Roger tried to suppress the groan of emotional pain that the question brought him and answered as indifferently as he could.

"She knows why… and I know why," he responded coldly… almost in a detached manner. Angel frowned and narrowed her eyes ever so slightly.

"Now don't shut me out _now_ Roger Davis. I suppose you don't have to tell me but don't pretend to be something you're not." Roger sighed and looked at Angel apologetically.

"I'm sorry… old habits die hard you know," Roger joked as he tried to change the subject. Angel wasn't going for it though. She weakly reached her arms out and grabbed both of Roger's hands in a weak grasp. Roger marveled at this because he had temporarily forgotten about Angel's physical condition because they had been talking for so long. It was as if her fingers couldn't quite bend enough to get Roger's full hand so he remained as still as possible for her sake.

"Roger…" Angel began weakly. Roger's stomach dropped when he realized exactly where this conversation was going. Instantly that old run instinct grabbed hold of him and he quite nearly bolted out of the room. Angel's voice was so soft and helpless though… Roger couldn't just abandon her now. "I don't know if you've noticed or not but I'm dying." Roger remained silent because it seemed like his tongue had swollen up and filled his whole mouth.

"And I have so many regrets… so many things that I wish I could do over." Roger gaped at her in shock… the great Angel Dummot-Schunard has regrets?? No… it couldn't be. "I wish I had gone back home and gave my mother forgiveness… I wish that I hadn't snapped at Collins so last week when he tried to give me a kiss." Roger absorbed this silently like a sponge… catching a glimpse of what Mark must have to do all the time. "But most of all sweetie, I wish that didn't get sick _now. _Not when everyone actually needs me." Angel's voice broke and she looked away, pain showing clearly in those eyes.

"Angel," Roger murmured softly, "We always needed you." Angel shook her head and peered back up at Roger sadly.

"Not like this," she whispered with guilt showing plainly on her face. Roger's shoulders tensed as he watched Angel break down for the first time. He didn't know what to do… or what to say. Roger just sat there quietly and let Angel still hold onto his hands with their weak grasp and pondered the odd way things had turned out.

How was it that Angel was able to confess her greatest fears to a man never cared about anything but himself when Roger wasn't able to confess his to possibly the most selfless person he would ever meet.

_(End Flashback)_

After that the nurses shooed me away… saying that Angel needed a nap. I remember her murmuring about how she hated to see me go but that Collins was coming later that day. I understood completely of course… she needed to be ready to see her lover. She did tell me how great it was to see me again and that she had missed my "pretty face". I laughed at this comment and in turn said how great it was to see her as well. When I finally left the hospital room my mind had almost been made up to go visit Mimi again. To apologize for all those words that I said to her.

Or at least that was what I was planning to do. I knew exactly what I had to do and was satisfied and prepared to perform it the very next morning. I slept easy knowing that tomorrow the world would no longer be blue and that I would have Mimi again. That was until, the phone call in the middle of the night.

_(Flashback)_

RIIIIIIIING!!!

Roger groaned angrily and rolled back over on his side in an attempt to block the sound.

RIIIIIIIIING!!!

Roger heard a rustle in Mark's room next to him but otherwise neither moved to pick up the phone. Roger sighed and waited to hear the answering machine pick up, hear whatever psycho that was calling them this late leave their pointless message, and then get back to some blissful sleep.

SPEEEAK!!!

"Mark! Roger! God some one answer the damn phone!" the frantic and blaring voice of Tom Collins shouted through the quiet Loft. Roger heard the panic in his friend's voice and felt his heart clench dangerously. He dashed out of bed though and hurried to the phone, reaching it just before Mark entered the room.

"Collins!" Roger sleepily replied into the phone despite his growing fear. "What's going on?" he asked in concern though he couldn't help but throw some irritation into his tone.

"Roger?" Collins asked weakly and Roger noted that it sounded as if he had been crying. Mark pulled his glasses on and squinted at his roommate through them.

"What's going on?" Mark asked in concern after focusing in on Roger's fearful face. Roger ignored him however and replied to Collins instead.

"Yeah… I'm here," Roger reassured and braced himself for the news. A deep and shaky breath was drawn from the person on the other end.

"Angel… she…" Collins stuttered before stopping again. His voice broke out of grief. Roger went cold for a minute, ignoring Mark's demands to know what was wrong. He barely even noticed when the frantic filmmaker ripped the phone from Roger's petrified form.

All that Roger knew was that his newly formed world was now crumbling into pieces. He felt a fool for believing that love could conquer all. All that Angel did was for nothing… she was dead. It didn't even matter anymore.

"Do any of the others know?" Mark asked quietly, looking rather pale himself. Somehow this phrase caught Roger's attention and snapped him out of his cold realization. Roger leaned in a little closer and heard the faint and muffled reply.

"Yours was the first number I could think of." Roger didn't move from his spot but kept his eyes carefully on Mark and the phone. It was over.

_(End flashback)_

I guess that's when I really took the thought of leaving New York and go to Santa Fe really became a reality. At first it had just been a nice thought… something to get me through the winters. Now everywhere I went I was reminded of how shitty my life was. I just couldn't help but hear Angel's words… about the regrets. Unfortunately I took it all the wrong way… I wasn't ready to learn. So after the funeral I took off in my new car and left Mimi in tears.

But I came back. I guess that's what counts.

**A/N: Wow… that was a bit longer than usual I think. Again, so sorry about the wait. It just took me so long to develop this idea and I had to start re-wrting several times so… I'll stop making excuses now. I welcome new ideas of something you think should be in Roger's memories!! If I also think the idea is workable the chapter will be dedicated to you so… :D Anyway, please review!!**


	11. Playtime from Hell

**A/N: I'm back! Whoo!! I saw RENT live for the first time the other day and let's just say… it blew me away! I laughed! I cried (a lot)! And felt inspired for this story believe it or not. Although I felt the need to write something from Roger's past this time that was a little more light hearted so that's what's on the agenda!! Please review! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT or Roger… horribly depressing, I know. **

I'm Ready For My Close Up!

_Playtime from Hell_

We've all had our fair share of fun toys in our childhoods, am I right? We've had toy trains, model cars, dinosaurs, sock puppets… and everything in between! However… there usually is just that _one _toy that sticks with us forever while the others all fade away from our memories. Unfortunately for me this wasn't a favorite toy that stayed fresh in my mind all these years. No… instead I remember a creepy ass ventriloquist dummy!

(Flashback)

"Okay Roger… there's one more present for you!" Mrs. Davis explained delightedly. Roger gave a small smile at his mother's attempt to make today special. It was his thirteenth birthday party and he had been looking forward towards the day for nearly three years! He'd already had a friend get together at the mall yesterday and so now his family was throwing him a little birthday party at his home.

"Really?" Roger asked, genuinely curious. He'd already received several new guitar picks from his father and a tape from his favorite rock group, The Head Mashers. Not to mention the guitar that he had received as an early birthday present nearly a month ago... a brand new black and white electric contraption that Roger was able to take to his lessons with great amounts of pride. What more could his parents possibly have for him?

"Bring it out!" Roger's excited mother called down the hallway. Stern Mr. Davis then walked down the hallway with a rather large pink box.

"Come on and open 'er up Roger!" Mr. Davis said gruffly, a smile gracing his features. Roger walked cautiously up to the box (the pink coloring threw him off a little) and hastily ripped the paper away. Now all that was left was a large cardboard box with several holes cut into the side.

"No… it can't be!" Roger cried, expecting a cute and wriggly puppy jump out of the box at him when he opened it. He tried to mask his extreme disappointment however when all that was in the box was…

"It's a ventriloquist dummy!" Mrs. Davis squealed and eagerly yanked the doll out of the box. "I remembered how much you loved these when you were younger… oh goodness! You would go on about how you would be a ventriloquist and tour the world with your dummy named…" Roger groaned and finished his mother's sentence.

"Pedro!" he sighed and took the dummy from his mother. Sure it had been his dream when he was very small but did his parents really expect him to still be into that kind of thing? Judging by their expressions… the answer would be a resounding yes. Roger took this time to look over the dummy.

The little wooden man consisted of ink black hair (that for some reason wasn't painted on but actual hair), dark mysterious eyes, a button nose, and a grin that even a crack addict could not achieve on the best of highs. Not to mention the freckles that were splattered across his cheeks and the disgustingly clean cut black suit that covered his body.

"Pedro," Roger said again. To be honest Roger didn't know what to think about this… this… doll.

"He comes with several different outfits!" his mother gushed while he stared dumbly at Pedro. Roger looked up numbly to stare at the various other hideous doll outfits that his mother was holding out towards him. He forced a weak smile and a nod while promising himself to touch this dummy and his clothes as little as possible.

"And he also comes with a book on how to throw your voice," Mr. Davis reminded and held out a bright red handbook. Roger took the book from his father and set both it and the dummy down on the table and smiled up at his parents.

"It's great," he said weakly. He even let his mother give him a peck on the cheek and ruffle his hair until it was a horrible mess. All the while the dummy stared at him… a blank, cold, and overall unnerving stare.

(End flashback)

Yes. Later as I stared across the room at the dummy and found myself incapable of looking away despite the overwhelming need to ralph all over the living room carpet I knew I was terrified of _Pedro_. Somehow giving him a name made him even more real and it made me unbelievably anxious. Who would have thought something so cute and innocent could be so utterly terrifying?

Anyway, later that evening Mark came over for dinner like he always does on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. My mom always prepared the most nutritious meals with the highest possible serving amount when Mark came over. She was hell-bent to get that boy to weigh over 90 pounds. Anyway, before dinner was ready both Mark and I went to my room because he wanted to, and I quote, "raid the loot".

(Flashback)

"Let's see… new guitar picks, a tape, and a guitar they gave you a month ago," Mark listed off with a grin. "It seems they've got you all figured out Roger Davis!" Roger smirked at his friend who was surveying the new arrivals on his bed.

"There's one other thing in the closet," Roger instructed and plopped down on his bed with a satisfied smirk. Sure he hated the creepy puppet but it couldn't hurt to get a rise out of Mark could it?

"I don't like the looks of that smirk Rog," Mark warned but ventured into the closet anyway. "What, did they get you a Bar—WHAT THE HELL?!" Mark squeaked and came reeling out of the closet. Roger laughed as Mark withdrew from the closet, pale and trembling.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" Mark bellowed and flew to the other side of the room fearfully. Roger chuckled again and sauntered over to the closet with a sly grin.

"That, my friend, happened to be Pedro. And you insulted him." Roger came back from the closet toting the puppet in one arm. Mark's eyes widened behind his square glasses and he backed up even farther against the wall.

"Pedro?" he whispered in terror, eyeing the thing carefully. Roger rolled his eyes, grimaced, and then set the thing on a chair by the desk.

"Pretty horrifying isn't he?" Roger said with a thin smile. Once Mark saw that the contraption was safely placed in the chair he inched forward to get a better look.

"What possessed your parents to buy such a demonic toy?" Mark asked, his fear subsiding into curiosity. Roger sighed and motioned weakly to the doll with a shaking hand.

"When I was little I wanted to be a ventriloquist and I guess my parents got it in their heads to grant me my wish _now_," Roger explained in a whiny voice. "I don't want anything to do with him though! He looks like he could come to life in the middle of the night and stab me to death with a safety pin!" As he was speaking Roger moved closer to his bed and sat down on it, bringing a pillow to his knees protectively. Mark just squinted and adjusted his glasses so he could see better.

"Classic horror movie situation," he mused while studying Pedro. "The teenage boy's unsuspecting and naive parents buy him a possessed doll that wreaks havoc during the night but pins it on the boy. No matter how much the boy tries to tell someone about what's going on they call him crazy and brand him as having an overactive imagination. It could end with either the boy's entire family dying a horrible painful death or the dummy being destroyed." At this point Mark was just rambling, lost in his little filmmaker mind. "Though the dummy wouldn't have actually died and it would leave more room for a sequel that isn't really better than the original…" Mark finally trailed off when he saw the murderous expression on Roger's face.

"Mark…" he warned in a low and dangerous voice. Mark smiled weakly and stepped away from Pedro.

"Roger… your fist is clenching and unclenching again… control your temper," he warned while trying to make amends with his best friend. Roger sighed and relaxed his hand while forcing himself to not be so angry. It was a silly thing to be angry about.

"Sorry Mark it's just… that thing already freaks me out as it is so let's hold off on the horror movie thing, okay?" Roger explained while shooting glares in the direction of Pedro. If he didn't know better he would think that Pedro smirked back at him. Mark laughed shortly, clapping Roger on the shoulder.

"Don't worry about it Roger… just pretend that you love the thing for about a week and then shove it in the back of your closet," Mark suggested, taking a seat next to Roger. "That always works for me when my mom gives me those horrendous itchy sweaters," he pointed out, causing Roger to grin.

"You're probably right Mark…" Roger said and flashed his friend a wide smile. "There's not much to be scared of really… it's just a doll." Mark smiled back and nodded confidently.

"Sure he's a little heart-stopping when you first meet him but he's just a puppet," Mark confirmed and then danced over to the door. "C'mon, I think it's Hearty Chicken Stew night if my memory serves me," Mark teased and waited impatiently in the doorway. Roger grinned and trotted over to the door as well.

"You're such a nerd," he teased, punching Mark roughly in the shoulder. Mark whimpered a bit in mock hurt and raced down the stairs playfully. Roger bolted after him with a laugh. However he couldn't stop thinking about how Mark had referred to Pedro as if he were a… person.

(End flashback!)

So the rest of the evening passed without event. Mark ate all that my mom put on his plate with gusto while my mom sent him little piercing glances all through dinner. I think she was hoping to physically see Mark gain weight with each spoonful of stew and each bite of cornbread. My father and I noticed this and laughed with each other quietly about how overbearing she could be. Finally the cake was brought out (my piece was even bigger than Mark's for a change!) and with the last bites of moist pastry the night came to a close.

After allowing me to showoff to Mark for a bit with my guitar my parents kindly suggested that maybe it was time for Mark to go home. So with the dying strains of my favorite Head Masher song my teacher helped me learn Mark was shown the door. For a while I even managed to forget about Pedro the Freaking Dummy because of how lighthearted the evening had been. Hanging out with Mark usually very calming… at least when he wasn't always coming up with situations of how I could die in a horror, action, or tragic romance movie. He's just a nerd that way.

So imagine my surprise when I opened my bedroom door to get ready for bed…

(Flashback!)

Roger bid his parents goodnight by shouting down the stairway and then stomping up to his room. He was more than ready to pretend to sleep but instead listen to his new tape with the volume down low. However, when he opened the bedroom door he could barely suppress a scream of horror.

Instead of being in the chair by the desk where Roger had left him the doll was now lying across his bed… his face twisted into a maniacal grin and head turned towards the door as if waiting for Roger. Roger's breath caught in his throat and his head spun dangerously. Pedro had moved himself… Pedro had moved himself…

"_It was probably Mark… trying to freak me out. He saw how much it bugged me,"_ Roger thought to himself frantically, trying to find a way to lower his heart rate. Then a horrifying fact hit him and left him wanting to cry. _"SHIT!!! Mark was with me the whole night! He never even went up the stairs to use the bathroom!"_ Roger ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair and stared at the puppet from hell with suspicious eyes.

"Okay Roger… maybe one of your parents saw him sitting on the chair and put him on the bed for you… it's okay… the doll can't actually move." With this thought now in place Roger inched into his room but left the door slightly ajar.

"Come on Pedro… you're going back in the closet," Roger instructed out loud and carefully lifted the puppet. His hands trembled around Pedro but once the closet door was open he tossed the puppet as if it were burning his hands. "Now stay there!" Roger warned and giggled a little nervously at the way he was talking to the thing. However he lost no time in slamming the door shut on the puppet. All the while his instincts were screaming at him, telling him where he should go.

_Get in the bed… get in the bed… get in the bed…_

For whatever reason Roger thought that the bed was safe territory so he willingly leapt into it, pulling the blankets around his trembling body tightly. He didn't even care that he was still in his regular clothes and that they were itching uncomfortably. Nothing would bring him out of this comfort zone… absolutely nothing.

………………………………………

Three hours later, Roger Davis was still wide-awake. His body was slanted towards the closet door and his eyes fixated on the handle and narrowed intensely. Two hours earlier he thought he had heard a noise come from the general direction of the closet and now he refused to turn his attention away.

If that little bastard thought he was gonna come out in the middle of the night and catch him unawares then that little demon had another thing coming. Roger blatantly refused to become a victim from Mark's horror films.

"Yeah, you better stay hidden you little punk," Roger whispered in the darkness, the suspense getting to him. "You better just stay in there and keep your torture devices to yourself." Somehow this statement made Roger feel much more secure, especially when the closet door didn't swing open with a provoked dummy hanging off the handle. The thought sent a tremor down Roger's spine that could freeze hell over though and he quickly thought of other things.

"_Francesca looked kind of hot in that light blue sweater the other day,"_ Roger thought to himself to distract his thoughts from terrifying images. He was of course referring to the little brunette that sat in front of him in Biology. Biology was _always _so much more interesting when she was at school. _"I wonder if I asked her…"_

_CrrreeeeEEEAAAAAAAAAKKKKK!!!!!!!_

Roger jumped out of his thoughts and refocused his thoughts on the closet door. He was certain that the noise had come because the door had swung open. However, the door was still firmly closed. Just as he had left it nearly four hours ago and appeared to never have moved.

"_Okay Davis… you'll never get the chance to ask her for even a freaking pencil again if you don't keep an eye on that door. FOCUS MAN!!!"_ Roger steeled himself and once more stared at the door. He would be damned if that little monstrosity would get past him and attack himself, his family and friends, or ruin his chances of sniffing Francesca's perfumed hair! Or any other girl for that matter!

And so the entire night passed in turmoil for our daring hero. Not a wink did he sleep all evening long.

(End flashback!)

My parents noticed in the morning that I resembled a raccoon that had been stuck in a river all night and instantly wanted to know what was wrong. I couldn't bear to tell them that I had been too terrified of the psychotic killer in disguise as a ventriloquist dummy so I lied and said I wasn't feeling well. When they suggested that I stayed home however I instantly felt terrified of having to spend the entire day home alone with the thing so I tried my best to get out of it.

Luckily for me, my dad had a suspicion of what was wrong and pulled me aside later that morning to confront me. When he wanted to know if something had scared me I ended up telling him all about Pedro and the night's events. He seemed to understand completely and offered to help me get it out of my room without offending my mother. Let me tell you, I was eternally grateful.

So eventually Pedro faded from the memory of my parents and Mark but however I have been cursed to always remember. I've never looked at a ventriloquist or his dummy the same way since. Besides… I always was afraid of that attic where he was hidden. I just always felt that there was something watching me… waiting to pounce.

**A/N: Dun, dun, DUUUUNNNN!!!!! Anyway, sorry if the whole puppet thing was a little out of left field but THOSE THINGS TERRIFY ME TO DEATH!! I based Roger's reaction off of what I would do in his place pretty much. So next time there will be another serious memory but until then PLEASE REVIEW!!! **

**Oh, and I as far as I know there isn't a band named "The Head Mashers" but if there is then I apologize. I also own Pedro, he's my own character even though he scares the hell out of me. :D**


	12. The Reason

**A/N: I'm back again! This will be another more serious chapter and it will include April in it. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, Roger, or Adam Pascal. Not to mention anyone else who has ever played Roger. **

I'm Ready For My Close Up

_The Reason_

There are questions that often go unasked in our household. For instance, why is Mark still pining of Maureen when she clearly doesn't want him anymore? Why does Collins love Stoli so much? Why did April…

On second thought, that's enough examples of those unasked questions. Anyway, my point is that there are just things that you DON'T bring up. Especially when you're a brooding, moody rock star going through withdrawals and trying to deal with your girlfriend's death at the same time.

Though one day… a nice, relaxing day when I was strumming contentedly on my guitar and Mimi was out picking up some groceries (with Joanne's money of course) Mark put down the camera and asked one of those questions. I didn't know he had it in him.

(Flashback!)

Sunlight streamed through the small windows in the equally small Loft. Roger was leaned against the tiny window seat and strumming a lazy and unconcerned beat on his old guitar and Mark was busying himself with his camera. There came a break from Mimi's boisterous singing when she left to run some errands and the two boys were very much alone in the silence. Roger's casual strumming changed to a distant humming in his raspy, voice and Mark paused for a moment to listen.

In fact, Mark was afraid to make any kind of comment for fear of ruining the quiet moment. He just watched his rarely unconcerned friend and gawked as he took a rare moment of peace. There was no self-torture in his eyes and for once it seemed his body wasn't aching from the virus. He looked… peaceful. Mark probably hadn't seen that expression since the 12th grade. He had filmed some of it, knowing it would make _excellent _footage to use for later, but now he merely watched with his own eyes rather than the camera's.

Roger noticed Mark's poorly concealed stare and finally stopped his music making to stare back.

"What's on your mind Cohen?" he asked teasingly and balanced his guitar carefully on his lap. Mark only had that expression on his face when he was contemplating something deep and important. Mark looked taken aback a this tone and realized that there _had _been something on his mind. There had been something on his mind for many, many years now and it was bubbling to the surface. So without realizing it… Mark let it slip.

"Why did you want to stop the drugs?" Mark blurted out and then blushed immediately afterwards. There barely came a pause after this question before Mark began to babble. "I'm so sorry Roger, I shouldn't have brought it up! You were so relaxed and now I've gone and ruined it for you…" Mark moaned and hid his face in his hands.

When he looked up though he didn't seen pain in his friend's expression. Nor was there anger hidden in there. He looked merely… surprised. It _was _a forbidden question after all.

"Wow," Roger muttered as he leaned back against the cool glass. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Wow," he repeated and closed his eyes for a moment. Mark remained silent but felt incredibly guilty for ruining such a lovely moment.

"If you don't want to talk about it…" Mark finally said quietly before Roger shushed him. He smiled and opened his eyes again though there were some tears in the back of them.

"It's okay. I haven't thought about April in such a long time…" Roger trailed off and then took another deep breath. "I guess it started when we were walking home one night from a gig. I was wasted and she was wasted but something seemed to be troubling her." Mark waited patiently while Roger seemed to pause to recall the details.

"She looked so damn good in that maroon shirt and her black tights underneath her mini skirt. The moon was reflecting off her skin so nicely and her flesh was so warm in my hand. Probably one of the most beautiful moments she ever had," Roger muttered more for himself than to Mark. Mark smiled and offered his own opinion.

"April always looked stunning," Mark said softly. Roger smiled and nodded in agreement. "I think it was the hair." Roger was silent and then continued on like he normally would.

"Like I said, she was acting peculiar and finally I had to stop and ask her what was wrong. She was flustered but she eventually explained herself after some prodding." Mark leaned forward expectantly as the words slid from Roger's mouth. "She said she wanted to quit the smack that night."

(End flashback)

I remember that night clear as day. It doesn't matter how wasted I was or how the pavement had blurred in front of me. Our conversation is forever engrained in my mind. In order for Mark to truly understand the full gravity of the words I launched into a detailed explanation and description, leaving nothing out.

(Flashback)

The doors to a dimly lit bar bust open and a giggling couple staggered through them. The night air was chilly but neither seemed to notice as long as they clung to each other closely.

"That was a beautiful performance Roger," April breathed as she caught her breath. Roger kissed the top of her head fiercely and continued to walk at the brisk pace they were holding.

"Not as beautiful as you look," Roger added after getting a good look at his girlfriend. April blushed lightly but soon the embarrassed color was gone from her cheeks. Her large green eyes turned up towards the sky and she smiled widely.

"You can kind of see the stars tonight," she slurred somewhat drunkenly and giggled again. Roger humored her for a moment and gazed up at the barely visible stars as well. She was right of course. The usually endless canvas of black was dotted with faint white spots and for a moment he wanted to put out every light in New York. Then maybe they wouldn't be faint nothings against an overbearing blackness.

"You could see the stars perfectly in Scarsdale," Roger randomly added and swung April into him, looking back before him. April snuggled against his warmth lovingly and wrapped an arm around his waist. Roger's hands remained across her shoulders and he grinned devilishly. "You're teasing me now!" April laughed and pressed in closer.

"Maybe I am," she coyly added and snuck a quick kiss on the lips. Roger desperately tried to make the kiss deeper and longer but April was diligent. Finally, Roger gave up with a deep sigh and continued walking with a disgruntled air.

"See if you get anything," he muttered and April sighed.

"As far as I knew, I was in control of that," April reminded him and Roger scowled playfully. He gave her shoulders an affectionate squeeze.

"Oh really?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow. Before April could react he pressed his lips on hers in a passionate kiss. April melted instantly and no longer tried to fight against him… she never really wanted to anyway.

Both stopped walking as the kiss deepened even more and turned into a desperate tongue war. The kiss grew more and more frenzied until both thought that their hearts might just collapse. Finally though Roger drew away and grinned as April whimpered in protest. He chuckled and allowed her to pull him back in for a while forcefully before drawing away once more.

"What can you say to that?" Roger teased and waggled his eyebrows down at her. April grinned widely before responding.

"I say we need to start walking a little faster," she breathily announced and the two began to walk briskly once more, occasionally giving hungry kisses to the other as they went. As they walked the two passed by a small medical clinic, closed for the evening it said. Even so, April paused outside of it and stared in surprise and small amounts of horror.

Roger felt her stop and turned back to see where exactly she had gotten to. Not that he had to look far since her hand was still clasped firmly in his.

"What?" Roger asked and curiously peeked around her to look at the clinic. It didn't seem to be anything very special but April seemed enthralled by it. "April, what's wrong?" he asked with a frown. April shook her head and turned back to continue walking. Roger stared at her in confusion but allowed April to practically drag him away while she worked on getting a smile back on.

Roger noticed though that her kisses were more subdued and that she seemed to be thoughtful rather than bubbly and lively like usual. He tried to ignore it and told himself that it was probably nothing. She was on her time of the month was all…

However, outside of his apartment building April cleared her throat and put her hand on his shoulder gently. He looked down at her with a warm and expectant smile but it faded when he saw the serious expression on her face.

"Roger," she began and bit down on her lip nervously. Roger waited impatiently for her to explain whatever it was she needed so they could get to his room. "What would you say if… if I wanted to get clean?" There came a long tense pause before Roger finally broke the intense gaze uncomfortably. "Hypothetically!" April chirped and tried to erase the anxious look she knew as written on her face. Roger frowned and finally looked back up again in concern.

"Why would you want to do that?" he questioned. April laughed as if it didn't matter at all and shoved Roger lightly.

"No need to look like your dog just died," April teased and snatched the keys away from his fingers lightly. "I was only wondering!" Roger gave a short laugh in relief and shook his head.

"What a stupid idea," he chuckled and held the door open for April eagerly. April smiled and nodded but forced the hurt down inside of her. He couldn't possibly understand…

The couple went upstairs and enjoyed a pleasant evening in each others company. But in the morning April eagerly awaited a phone call, claiming that her mother was supposed to call to just check up on her.

Roger never worried about it. It was just April's mother after all…

(End flashback)

I now know that April was waiting on the clinic to call her back in there… to give her the results of her test. Thinking back on that conversation I feel like such an idiot for laughing off April's question that way. I wish that I could have taken her seriously and actually considered the thought… asked her what was troubling her instead of jeering. I'll never forgive myself for it and that is why I wanted to get clean.

I never cared how much it hurt just so long as I could honor April. And maybe I hoped that if I tried hard enough it would bring her back.

(Flashback)

Mark and Roger stared at each other silently. What Roger had just confided in him blew Mark's mind actually. Crazy, party girl April had actually considered giving up the smack?

"Wow," Mark muttered. Roger also remained pensive and silent staring down at his guitar. He was thinking about why exactly he was suddenly able to tell Mark about all of this. Before he would have just told Mark to bugger off and leave him to work on his big song but now…

"It's easier to talk about it now," Roger said softly. Mark leaned forward again as his attention was grabbed once more. "I've healed a little… it doesn't sting or burn like it used to." Mark stared wide-eyed as Roger swiftly lifted his guitar again and began to strike out some chords thoughtfully. He thought he heard some familiar strains of the song Roger had written for Mimi…

"I suppose Mimi is to thank for that," Mark noted with a small smile. Roger also smiled as he allowed his fingers to simply wander.

"You _all_ are to thank for that," Roger corrected and flashed a wide grin at Mark. Mark returned it and the loose atmosphere from before returned with a startling ease. He was glad that Roger hadn't been upset, talking about April with him. Roger once more began to strum and hum or whistle to himself distantly, his mind at other places.

True, the subject had still ached a little… remembering all the shit that went on in that earlier part of his life. But he was content now… he was closer to being whole once again. And even though his body fought with a murderous disease every day and there were some days he just wanted to sleep and never wake up Roger kept on trucking. He had hope again.

Just then some loud clicking of heels and a rich, furious voice from outside of the door and the rattling of keys accompanied her ranting.

"Muy tonto…" was heard among other swear words that Roger had come to learn quite easily. Mimi usually found an occasion or two to sling them at him in a fit of rage. "¡Tú espera… tú espera!" Mimi threatened as the door flung open and she stalked angrily into the door.

"How did the shopping go?" Roger asked casually. When all he received were a string of exasperated curses and some banging of brown paper bags he had his answer.

"Not so well then," Mark muttered and ducked into his room to escape the wrath of Mimi. Roger sighed and set down his guitar, feeling obligated to go and see what was wrong.

"What happened this time?" Roger asked with a smile on his face. Mimi always did look good when she was fuming about some nut job who had annoyed her. Mimi whirled around and explained the whole situation quickly and angrily, the words coming out in a big blob with some Spanish mixed in as well.

Roger barely listened but nodded and grimaced at the appropriate places. He just looked at her though… barely able to accept that she was real. Mimi Marquez, one of the toughest but sweetest Latina girls you would ever meet… and she was all his.

(End flashback)

I'll always love April I suppose. How can I not think of her and feel the tug at my heartstrings and wonder what might have happened if things had turned out differently. Would April have died early anyway of the disease? Would we still be together or would I still be alone? Would I have still met Mimi? I try not to dwell on these so much but I can't help but imagine it wistfully.

Though quite honestly, I can't imagine life not being the way it is right now.

**A/N: Well there it is! The reason that Roger decided to give up the drugs and go clean! I hope you liked it! I personally LOVED the way it came out! And sorry about the limited Spanish… I wanted to use more but I'm still not the best at it and should probably wait to expand my vocabulary before tackling something like that. Here are some translations though! In the meantime, please review!**

**Muy tonto- _Very stupid_**

**Tú espera- _You wait _**


	13. I've Got Friends In All Kinds of Places

**A/N: Well I'm finally back!! Updating this one was a bit delayed because I was **_**really **_**sick for the last few days. You know, vomiting and all that jazz. So I'm better now and able to get back at the computer for longer periods of time and thought I would work on this one!! Yay!! So this will be about how Mark and Roger met Collins. Because I love Collins and I just realized that he's barely even mentioned!! (gasp!) **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Rent or anything related to it. Well, technically I own the soundtrack and a cool t-shirt but other than that…**

I'm Ready For My Close Up!

_I've Got Friends In All Kinds of Places_

There were a few brief, shining years in my new life as a "responsible" adult that were filled with happiness and light. Before all the disease and the heartache I was actually happy. Wow, amazing huh? Anyway, those times included all of my best friends. Mark Cohen, Tom Collins, and Benny. Eventually April and Maureen made their way into the picture at the Loft but for a while it was just us four amigos.

There was a time even before that though when Mark and I lived by ourselves in our small Loft space that we had rented out after moving to New York (but that's a different story in itself so I'll stop there). It was great and we had never even considered having another roommate. We didn't know anyone anyway, right? Sometimes I still have to convince an older couple living downstairs that Mark and I are _not _lovers. Again though, that's another story. The point is, Mark and I lived alone.

One day though, all of that changed…

(Flashback!)

It was a dark and bitter morning that greeted Roger Davis. The young rock star had been trying to sleep but found the chill rather hard to cope with so instead decided to get up and make some coffee.

His mussed blonde hair stood up in all directions and his eyes were half closed as his hands fumbled around for the coffee filter. When they finally found it Roger had to take even longer trying to set it up in the coffee maker and you can imagine what happened when he tried to fill the pot with water. Eventually though, it all managed to come together with only a small handful of coffee grinds scattered on the counter.

Roger barely seemed to notice though as he sat down in the chair with a grunt and huddled into his sweatshirt more. Thank goodness his parents had sent him these warm pajama pants… he practically never took them off because of the cold weather.

Mark must have heard the commotion because soon he too was stumbling into the kitchenette and was adjusting his glasses blearily. He was more of a morning person though and was able to focus better than Roger had.

"Cold," Roger muttered and allowed his head to fall onto the table peacefully. Mark raised an eyebrow but nodded in agreement.

"Early," he countered and Roger grunted in response. This was pretty much a morning routine for the two of them. Talking in no more than two syllables until about noon I mean.

So they sat for a while with Roger's head pressed against the table and Mark's hand on his forhead comfortingly. Eventually though, Mark noticed the incessant whine of the coffee machine and without thinking about it went over and poured himself a glass of the black liquid. He grabbed some for Roger too and set it down next to his roommate's seemingly lifeless form.

Once he swallowed though Mark came to a horrible realization.

"You made this when you were still asleep didn't you?" Mark demanded. Roger lifted his head up from the table and smiled as sweetly as possible.

"Compulsive habit," he explained with the sweet expression still on his face. Mark scowled but was unable to say anything more about it. That look made it impossible to be angry with Roger for too very long over something like horrible coffee.

So while the bitter taste worked its magic on the dynamic duo Mark remembered what he had wanted to say to Roger.

"Oh, hey Rog, did you want to go out and visit a few shops with me?" Mark asked and shifted more comfortably in the old chairs. Roger set his plastic cup down for a minute and moved a wild strand of hair away from his eyes in a thoughtful manner.

"Which shops?" he asked curiously and flicked the edge of his cup distractedly. Mark winced as he imagined Roger flicking that cup just a little _too _hard and tried his best not to snap at him.

"Stop doing that Roger." Roger stopped. "Well… I was thinking we could maybe pick up SOME food items for around here and then maybe just do what we always do," Mark explained. Roger grinned and leaned against his chair lazily.

"Wander around and bug the crap out of anyone walking by," he said with a cackle and nodded. "I'm in." Mark rolled his eyes because he already _knew _Roger would be okay with it but whatever.

"I guess we'll leave whenever it's reasonable," Mark added and forced down another swallow of the disgusting coffee. While he did so, Mark did the thing he always does after he's swallowed something. He cleared his throat loudly and wrinkled his nose up until it looked like it might just get sucked into his face. Roger's fingers twitched in annoyance as he stared in disgust.

"Could you _not _do that?" he asked as innocently as possible before scooting away to the sink so he could dump his cold coffee.

(End flashback)

Okay, so we were grating on each other's nerves. It was bound to happen some time and I guess sharing an apartment was all it took before we got sick of each other. I guess maybe we both kind of considered taking in another roommate to solve just that problem (not to mention it meant more people paying the rent) but one didn't bring it up to the other. We were both afraid I guess that we would hurt the other one's feelings.

Luckily… we got lucky.

(Flashback)

"Excuse me miss…" A pretty young woman toting her little boy on one hip turned to stare at the young man in front of her. She blushed ever so slightly because he was so handsome but decided to wait to see what he had to say. "Your son is simply adorable." Roger smiled at the woman and winked enticingly.

"Umm… thank you," the woman stuttered and smiled up anxiously as a rose color tinted her cheeks. Roger grinned back and was about to say something else before he was intercepted.

"Roger! There you are!" Mark exclaimed and grabbed his friend's elbow firmly. "I've been looking for you!" Roger opened his mouth to protest but at that point Roger had been dragged away by the shorter man with glasses.

"What are you doing?" Roger managed to bellow before glancing back at the girl in a hurt manner. "She was _hooooooot!!_" he whined. Mark chuckled softly and pointed back at a man with a suit and tie that was rapidly making his way to the young woman.

"Married," was all Mark had to say before Roger got the message. "Didn't you noticed that HUGE stone on her finger?" Roger muttered something inaudible, causing Mark to laugh. "I guess we accomplished something anyway. Look at how worked up that guy looks!" Roger managed to glance back again sulkily before he allowed himself to smile a little. The woman's husband was so red in the face it looked like it might implode or something.

"Probably because he's ugly and too old for her and he knew I could steal her," Roger added with a serious tone and expression. Mark made a face and stuck out his tongue but laughed anyway.

"Well, can't win 'em all can you Casanova? What do you say we get a drink?" Roger perked up considerably at the thought of a drink and the spring in his step was back.

"That's sounds like a _wonderful_ idea." The two slipped into a nearby bar, ignoring the sign above, and grabbing hold of the grimy door handle. It certainly wasn't the nicest bar around but it would do for the time being.

The two young men crossed the threshold and were hit with a strong smell of cigarette smoke, the sound of some wailing country song, and the intoxicating amount of liquor behind the bar. Eagerly, Mark and Roger sat at a stool and signaled to the bartender.

"Two of the best of whatever you've got," Roger ordered and Mark seconded the motion. The weary bartender nodded and disappeared around the back for a moment to fulfill the order. He certainly wasn't a happy camper about it though. It was then that Roger looked around at the other customers and found it strangely empty. What day was it even? Roger couldn't seem to remember at all.

It was while Roger was pondering what day of the calendar he was on when an older man took a seat next to him. He didn't seem too much older actually, maybe just a few years, and had beautiful dark skin that his eyes complimented nicely. The black beanie on his head was on slightly crooked and it appeared that he hadn't shaved in quite a few days because there was a little more than stubble surrounding his chin and cheek bones. He had a playful air about him though and he smiled politely over at Roger as he took the seat next to him.

Roger smiled back but his attention was turned away when the bartender finally emerged from the back and threw two glasses before him and Mark. They both managed to pay (Mark's mom had thrown a little extra money in the mail this time) for their drinks and grinned at each other.

"Bottoms up," Mark said cheerfully and took a large gulp. Roger laughed and also swallowed a large amount of the amber liquid even though it caused his head to swim a little. Man, it really _was_ a strong drink. He barely noticed that the man next to him had ordered a drink and was waiting quietly while Roger and Mark chatted and conversed with one another. Finally, Roger remembered the man and turned to face him this time. Mark also peered around Roger to get a look at the other man and waited for Roger to make the first move.

"Hey," Roger said a little loudly to get the other man's attention. When he looked over Roger smiled warmly and stuck his hand out. "I'm Roger." The other man took Roger's hand and also smiled before responding.

"Tom… but my friends call me Collins. It's my last name," Collins explained and Roger nodded agreeably. Mark waved from his seat shortly and Collins looked over at him expectantly.

"Mark," he said, introducing himself and reached across the bar to also shake hands with Collins. Collins laughed at the awkward stretch but shook hands with the younger man nonetheless. The bartender had reappeared at this time with a drink for Collins and eyed the display with disinterest.

"Here you are," he grunted and then moved off to see to the other customers. They had been hollering for more beer while singing a drunken rendition of some popular drinking song.

"Well he's a friendly fellow," Collins said with a cocked eyebrow. Mark and Roger laughed and took another considerable gulp from their own drinks. It was just the beginning of a beautiful night… and a friendship.

(End flashback)

Okay, so we got a little wasted. It's not like we meant for it to happen but when you hang out with Collins the fact you'll get drunk off your ass is a give in. The man always has Stoli or something on him. So while we drank, we talked about what we're doing in New York. Mark and I found out that he graduated as a teacher but wasn't having any luck getting a teaching job. His goal was to start working at NYU but so far they haven't agreed with many of his theories.

When we asked what exactly those theories were he just laughed that infectious laugh and changed the subject. We didn't mind that he blew the subject off of course because…well for one we were drunk. And for the other it was _his _life and he didn't have to tell us all about it or anything.

So at some point I ended up teaching them both a song that I had been sitting on for a while. I hadn't planned on it but it just sort of happened. Collins thought it was the best thing he had ever heard and before long all three of us were beating out a beat on the bar and singing the chorus loudly. _We_ found it incredibly amusing but I guess everyone else did not.

(Flashback)

"And selling ooouuttt is a sin so don' let me catch you SEELLIINGG!!!" three male voices bellowed together and laughed hysterically in a drunken way. This had been going on for nearly an hour and quite frankly, even the drunkest of customers were getting sick of it. Plus, the more drinks that the men ordered the more that the bartender began to get suspicious.

Just then Roger took his guitar solo while Mark and Collins cheered on. Several customers gawked at the spectacle and the more sober ones laughed. But just as Roger was about to go for the wicked high notes the bartender came and slammed something down on the bar. This startled the three of them and they looked blearily over at the rude man who had just ruined their fun.

"The tab," he said shortly and stared walked away. Now why someone would just walk away, none of them knew. What they did know is that none of them had any money, there was a huge tab to be paid, and they weren't so drunk that they couldn't run.

When the bartender turned around all three of the raucous men were gone.

A few minutes later Roger, Mark and Collins finally stopped running and were laughing hysterically. They couldn't believe that they had just done that. The cold, sharp air was almost as intoxicating as all the liquor they had consumed and all three could feel the adrenaline pumping through their hot blood.

"I can imagine his face," Roger chuckled and stopped to catch his breath. Mark was also wheezing but his eyes were bright and his cheeks were flushed in excitement. Collins seemed relaxed and was now ambling down the street at a slow pace. The crunching sound his shoes made against the sloppy snow was also just as relaxing as he was.

"We better get headed back Rog." Mark and Roger looked at each other and Roger nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, we better." Collins suddenly stopped walking and stared for a while at his two new friends who had turned to face him. "We'll have to get together again Collins." He nodded and suddenly just began to spew whatever came to mind.

"I can't go home. My landlord is bound to have locked me out and thrown all my stuff away." Roger froze and shot a glance over at Mark who also looked surprised. They both knew that if Collins hadn't been so drunk he probably wouldn't have shared this with two strangers. Roger felt bad for the guy and before he could stop himself the words had already slipped through his lips.

"Well that's easy. You can move in with us." Roger heard the words and winced a little. He knew that Mark wouldn't like him having made such a decision without talking it over with him first. Mark didn't seem the least bit upset though and he even eagerly seconded the motion.

"Yeah, we have _plenty_ of room for another person," Mark insisted. It seemed it didn't take much prodding for Collins to accept the offer however for he willingly began walking forward.

"I really appreciate it," Collins thanked and clapped both of their shoulders roughly. "I would have gone to Rick's house but… we…" Collins's voice faltered and nearly broke before he picked himself back up. "Thanks." At this point, Mark and Roger just wanted to get to their apartment and sleep their rapidly approaching hangovers away so they quickly ushered Collins to their apartment.

"You probably would have done the same for us," Mark reasoned while Roger kept a hand on Collins's shoulder. Collins nodded and grinned.

"You two are so young and naïve," he chuckled throatily. "I doubt anyone else in this city would have helped me out." Roger laughed and began to ascend the unsafe metal stairs to where their apartment was conveniently located.

"Well I guess it's lucky you got the seat next to the softies."

(End flashback)

Ever since then we've all been close. During the time we spent with each other we learned more about one another and soon Collins was amongst my closest friends. No guy can enter a room with as much ease and… well… coolness like Collins can and no one could drink him. At least, I hope not. If so then we might have a problem. It's really kind of funny how you meet some of your friends. Who would have thought I would have met one of my greatest and best friends in some small, dirty bar in the middle of New York? Even though it was strange and random I'm glad that it happened this way. And I'm just glad that I met him.

**A/N: So sorry for the delay. I won't give excuses but I will ask you to review!!! I'm not quite as fond of this chapter… I had a hard time writing for Collins. I don't have as much practice with him as the other characters. Anyway…**


	14. I Can't Stop Loving You

**A/N: Well, I'm back again! I really shouldn't be working on this story yet but I had this wonderful inspiration and just couldn't wait. Anyway, I'm pretty sure I've beat this topic to death the way someone would beat a dead horse… but I wanted to give it a little different perspective. Please review! The title of this chapter doesn't belong to me either. I'm not entirely sure who sang the song originally but it belongs to whoever wrote it I suppose. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT or anything to do with RENT. **

I'm Ready For My Close Up

_I Can't Stop Loving You_

It's hard losing a person that you love. And believe me, I've lost a fair few of them. My mother is dead, Angel is dead, and April… April left me. I think hers was the one that hurt the most because she _chose _to leave me. And not only just leave me but leave me alone after revealing the most horrifying and shocking news that I've ever received in my entire life. It stings. I cried. I hated her. I loved her. I missed her. I thought I couldn't love again.

Then little old Mimi came knocking on my door asking for some light. That was my first step to the road of recovery… though it was a very long and winding road.

And even though I love Mimi very much… there are just certain days when I can't stand being around her. It hurts too much and I push her away despite her own hurt and confusion. I regret that but I seem to have no control over these actions.

(Flashback)

Roger woke up in the morning at about seven a.m.. He briefly wondered _why _the hell he was up this early seeing as how he had been up until about three in the morning the night before. And then he noticed that his eyes were heavy and his limbs were lifeless… almost like dead weight.

"_Am I sick?"_ The thought sent a wave of fear coursing throughout his body as pulled the blankets around him with weak and feeble fingers. He couldn't be sick… how did this happen? He knew that one simple cold could turn into…

And then the realization hit him as if he had fallen out of bed.

It was the two-year anniversary. Roger groaned and buried his head into the pillow and felt his heart lurch painfully in his chest. Distinctly, he felt Mimi stir next to him but continued to sleep peacefully.

Mimi had never encountered him on an April day before. Whenever they had occurred they hadn't been together… a fact that had made the days all the more painful and hard to bear. The reminder of the loss of two women he loved at once had come close to smothering him.

But this day would be the worst.

Two years ago today, Roger had come home to April's apartment to the most horrific thing he had ever witnessed.

Roger instantly recognized the dangerous path that his thoughts were leading him and desperately tried to think of something else. Anything else that would help not think of… _that. _He thought about waking Mimi so that he could talk with her instead but found he didn't have the strength or will to do so. He was much too tired… perhaps he should sleep some more.

Sleep actually sounded very nice. If he were still on the smack he could easily have a painless and dreamless sleep that was free from April related topics. Roger knew he would never stoop to that though and settled for closing his eyelids and forcing the sleep to come.

But with each passing second he could feel the depression seeping through his body and turning into something he did not want to be right then. It was pressing in all around him and filling up his senses with horrible but intoxicating thoughts.

"_She must not have really loved you… if she did, she wouldn't have left you_." Roger shuddered and pushed the thought away. He knew from experience where these thoughts would lead him and he wanted to stay far away from that path.

But Roger had such a strong urge to grab his guitar. His fingers and palms ached from want of the guitar and Roger could feel himself giving in. The idea was so alluring and so pleasant that he didn't even think twice as he kicked the covers off and padded across the room to where his guitar lay. Roger picked up the instrument and sighed as the cool wood slid underneath his fingertips. It was a very calming and relaxing feeling that Roger never wanted to stop experiencing.

Roger glanced over at the still dreaming Mimi and looked at her for a moment. She was so beautiful when she slept… but she still reminded him horribly of April. April also had looked so wonderful as she nodded off to dreamland. So peaceful and serene…

With another heavy sigh, Roger quietly plucked out some guitar chords and smiled as his fingers automatically shifted to a song that he had been working on for the past month. It was a new one that Roger hoped he could perform at bars and even cafés… hoping to find work.

Unfortunately, the sound woke Mimi and she opened her eyes blearily. Once she realized where she was and that Roger was no longer next to her on the relatively soft bed, she understood immediately. The Latina smiled sleepily and gently rolled over to her back and propped herself up on her elbows. Her back rested against the pillow and her hair was splayed about her shoulders messily due to her sleeping habits. Her lips parted into a yawn and she watched her boyfriend with adoring eyes.

"That sounds great," she mumbled and gave Roger another weary smile. Roger started a little at the sound but forced himself to smile at Mimi. He shrugged and broke the eye contact almost as soon as it was made and stared down at the tight strings.

"Couldn't sleep," he muttered as an excuse. Mimi nodded, a little more alert, in understanding.

"I imagine song writing can be a bit obsessive," she agreed and continued to watch him in silence. The seconds seemed to drag on as Roger played his guitar and tried his best not to look up at Mimi… something he was surprisingly good at. Once Mimi's mind became a little less groggy, she too slipped out from under the blankets and shuffled over to the doorway. Normally, she might have given Roger a kiss good morning but she new better than to do so while he was "working".

"I'm going to make some tea or something," she explained and opened the door softly. When she heard Roger grunt as a way to show that he had heard her after all, Mimi walked all the way out of the room and allowed her feet to scrape loudly against the floor. It was bound to wake Mark up (he _was_ such a light sleeper and _so _obnoxiously irate when he was woken up without need) but Mimi didn't care at the moment. She had inherited a pair of Roger's old plaid pajama pants (Maureen had given him a new pair at New Years as a bit of a gag gift) and a band t-shirt to use for sleeping and she loved the smell that came off the clothes. It smelled like him.

So, with the sounds of Roger's moody guitar playing going on in the other room to accompany her to the kitchen, Mimi poured some water from the tap into a pot and turned the burner on nervously. The last time she had tried this the knob had broken off and they were all forced to call the fire department to help them turn the stove off. It had been quite the expensive call… but at least the building didn't burn down.

Luckily, the knob stayed in tact and Mimi was able to boil her water. And despite the normal sounds of the water beginning to bubble Mimi couldn't help but feel that there was something strange about the morning.

(End flashback)

I know I was probably being overdramatic. Okay… I _knew _I was being overdramatic about it all. It's just that I hadn't grieved for her in so long and the remembrance of that day just sort of brought all the pain and grief back. I know I'm not supposed to regret but that does that mean I'm supposed to forget? I know I wasn't very fair to Mimi that day. If I was being very honest with myself, I was a complete and total bastard.

Somehow though… she understood. I don't know how on Earth she could have forgiven me for the way I acted but she managed to. I suppose Mimi is just that way. She forgives easier than most can… definitely easier than I can.

She was ultimately there for me though, whether she liked it or not.

(Flashback)

"Hey Roger, do you want some lunch?" Mimi asked sweetly as Roger emerged from the bedroom. He stared at her for a moment and slowly shook his head. After doing this, Roger reached over and filled a glass with water before retreating back into the room and shutting the door with a bang. Mark noticed this chilly exit from his best friend and cocked an eyebrow over his drink. He stopped unfolding the paper that he had been hoping to read this afternoon and glanced from Mimi to Roger's closed door.

"Did you two have a fight or something?" he asked curiously. Mimi turned to look at him and he saw the confusion that was written all over her face. He frowned at this and wondered what could possibly be going on. Mimi never looked _confused_ after an argument.

"No… he's been like this all day. When I woke up he was at his guitar, claiming that he hadn't been able to sleep. Now he just isn't talking at all!" Mimi cried in exasperation and threw herself down onto the couch in despair. "I don't understand it!"

There came a thoughtful silence between the two friends as they pondered Roger's strange behavior.

"Who knows Mimi?" Mark finally said and began to unfold The Village Voice with a slightly concerned air. "You know how sensitive he can be." Mimi nodded but stared at the door in hurt and confusion. She just couldn't seem to understand what was wrong. Roger hadn't acted this way since… well since before he left for Santa Fe last year!

Mark sighed and glanced down at the headlines in the paper with little interest, mildly hoping that there would be a story bigger than whether some cleaning product _actually _worked. It wasn't until his eyes skimmed over the date printed in bold letters across the top that comprehension dawned in Mark's mind.

"Oh shit," Mark muttered and closed his eyes in realization. Mimi looked over at him in concern and frowned.

"What? Did you bite your tongue or something?" she teased, chuckling at the look of what she thought was physical pain on Mark's face.

"It's the two-year anniversary," Mark stated and shook his head wearily. "I can't believe I forgot about it!" Mimi's eyebrows knitted together and quickly walked over to where Mark was seated.

"What are you talking about?" she asked with mild fear lacing her words. The sentence hung in the air for several seconds before Mark forced himself to make eye contact with Mimi. Somehow, Mimi just knew that this had something to do with April even though she had no evidence to back it up with.

"Two years ago… April killed herself," Mark whispered painfully, glancing over at Roger's closed door in concern. It explained everything. The lack of speech, the moodiness towards Mimi, and the guitar. In an instant Mark's eyes were back on Mimi.

Mimi's reaction was not quite what he had expected either. At first she stared at him in surprise, not really registering the words that had just reached her ears. Then a very confusing facial expression was painted on her beautiful facial features… almost like a bizarre cross of incredible hurt and inexplicable loathing and desperation. What was even more bizarre was the fact that Mark knew instantly what must be going through Mimi's head. She was wondering why Roger should be so affected two years later. She was wondering why he hadn't shown his pain in so long around her. She was wondering why he would still be thinking about a past love when he had a new one in front of him.

In short, Mimi's facial expression was asking, _"What about me?"_ Mark didn't really blame her. It was a perfectly normal and reasonable reaction for a girlfriend to have when she finds out that her boyfriend has a mental breakdown on certain days of the year because of a past flame. But she had to understand that Roger had loved her _so_ much.

"Mimi… you have to understand," Mark began gently and smiled over at his friend's lover. "Roger was so in love with April that when she killed herself… she left his huge gaping hole in her wake. She killed herself after giving Roger the worst news of his life." Mimi paled slightly and the hurt feeling seemed to dissolved from her face a little but didn't entirely disappear.

"You never quite stop missing someone you loved."

(End flashback)

Needless to say, I was beyond depressed. I was listless, numb, aching, and unable to hear or see anything around me. This was what it had been like all those years ago and realizing she was gone. I was wallowing in my own self pity and could barely recognize the voices that were conversing quietly in the living room. I didn't really care either to be honest.

I didn't know how much I just needed someone to hold me. To tell me that everything was okay. I thought what I needed was time alone to cry and to grieve if I so wished but I was wrong. I needed so much more than that.

(Flashback)

Roger's eyes twitched upwards as the door opened but then fell back down to the guitar. He was still testing different chords and rhythms… swearing in annoyance when they didn't work and writing them eagerly down when they did. His head bobbed up and down thoughtfully as he tapped a beat out onto the wood of his guitar but stared down at the floor. His heart was thumping so painfully…

Mimi paused in the doorway and just watched him for a moment. Mark had warned her not to bother him when he was in his "April state" and that all he would need is time to get over it. Mimi just had a hard time believing that you should leave someone so morbidly depressed alone in a room while he slowly tortured himself over the past. It wasn't healthy.

So, she walked slowly over to where Roger sat and stopped a good distance away from his huddled and hunched form that was leaned against a wall. She then leaned down and seated herself carefully on the hard floor but found this ridiculously uncomfortable. So she didn't noticed that Roger watched her shift and grunt in annoyance before finally stretching out on her stomach on the floor to watch Roger play guitar. When she felt his eyes on her though she looked up at him and smiled softly.

No words passed between them. Roger simply stared at her for the longest time and Mimi didn't feel threatened or uncomfortable. He was really more staring out of her in surprise so she knew he wasn't angry with her. If he had been upset he would have already started shouting or glaring at her in that dead scary way of his. When his gaze was finally broken from hers Mimi felt moved to say something. So she did.

"What was she like?" Mimi asked innocently and watched Roger's face intently to see his reaction. He looked back at her again, startled once more by her actions. "Mark told me what day it is," she explained softly and her brown eyes pleaded with Roger to open up to her. "You never talk about her to me… and it can't be good for you to keep it to yourself. Mark said that you opened up a little bit about her a few weeks ago but that it wasn't really much."

Roger looked hastily back down his guitar and banged out a note. Mimi winced, thinking that she had pushed it too far and that now he wasn't going to talk at all. She was just about to take her leave when Roger did something entirely unexpected.

He knew that what Mimi said was true and that he was tired of feeling so depressed about this. He knew he could never quite move on from April… but talking about her would help him immensely. So he stood up and walked over to where Mimi was lying uncomfortably on the old and dusty floor. He then lowered himself to the ground but instead of putting his weight on his stomach he was flipped over on his back next to Mimi. Mimi followed his lead and rolled over so that she was right next to him, a hand on his chest for support. In fact, Mimi rather liked the way that when Roger finally did talk that the vibrations from his deep and raspy voice shot through her fingertips and up into her arm.

"She was a spectacular woman," Roger began and Mimi smiled encouragingly. "She had… beautiful red hair and a radiant smile." Roger paused and looked down at Mimi with a faint smile twitching at his lips. "That's why you took me by surprise Christmas Eve nearly two years ago. Your smile was so much like hers." Mimi sighed and allowed her head to rest on his shoulder.

"And I thought you were just saying that," she teased lightly but was immediately quiet again. This was Roger's moment and he needed to have it without interruption from her.

"Well… she was such a ray of light. She was bubbly and energetic and always had something positive to put into a conversation. Collins thought she was spectacular as well and the two were always hanging out together. In fact, if I hadn't known for a fact that Collins loved men I might have been jealous." Mimi suppressed a giggle and waited for Roger to continue. He had gone so quiet that she was worried that this was too much for him.

"I loved her so much… I would have done anything for her. I took her for granted though and always just assumed that she would be there." At this, Roger looked down at Mimi again and she would have sworn that his voice cracked with emotion. "I'm not going to let myself make that mistake again." Mimi felt her heart lurch and nearly cried when he put an arm protectively around her waist and pulled her closer.

"I'm so sorry," Roger apologized thought it was muffled for his face was buried in Mimi's massive curls. "I didn't mean to be so distant today." Mimi reached up with her free hand and touched his head gently in understanding. "I just want you to know that I love you more in so many ways than April. April would have never come to be with me if I was like this. Her way of comforting me would be handing me a small baggy of smack." Mimi could tell that he was about to go on and list everything that he loved about her more than April and quickly quieted him.

"It's okay Roger. I know. You can still love and miss _her_ too." Mimi could feel tears of emotion pricking her eyes so she quickly wiped them away before she could actually cry. "I never gave up on you Roger Davis and I never will." Roger squeezed her waist gently in affection and Mimi grabbed his hand and squeezed it in return.

A long silence followed in which the two just laid there together on the floor and relishing each other's company. They hadn't moved or spoken in a long time and even though their bodies were stiffening and were crying out in protest they still did not move.

"Do you want to get up and see Mark now?" Mimi asked softly, hoping that his answer would be what she thought it would be. Roger shook his head and Mimi felt it happily.

"Let's just lay here for a while," he responded and Mimi nodded and leaned into him even more.

"Good," she murmured and tightened her grip on Roger's hands. Roger never wanted to have to move again. It was then that he knew that he wanted Mimi next to him for the rest of their shortened lives.

"Just lay here and forget the world," he added softly and Mimi grunted in response. Luckily, Roger's mind remembered how frail Mimi really was and managed to reach over and grab a blanked off their bed without disturbing either of their positions.

The blanket practically draped itself over them as the two lovers found comfort in a simple action.

(End flashback)

I will _always_ miss April. Little things in life always remind me of her and I find myself saddened by her memory. But luckily, with help from my friends, I'm beginning to finally move on and those hard days are becoming less and less painful. I always remember not to be a prick about it too because I remember Mimi and how little time we have.

Ever since Christmas last year we've been on pins and needles keeping an eye on her. At any moment her weakened and vulnerable body could go into a relapse and she could be gone… forever. I try my best not to think about it but it makes it hard to spend time feeling sorry for myself. And in a weird sort of way, I'm glad for that. For a while at least, I can be happy again. And I'm willing to take whatever I can get.

**A/N: Mmmmm… yeah. Dead horse. :D Sorry about that but I just couldn't pass it up! Please review! Oh, and there was a reference to the song "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol. So obviously, I don't own any of that either. The opportunity was just TOO GOOD to pass up though! **


	15. So Long Doc

**That said, this next memory is going to be taken from Roger's childhood as he experiences something that I'm sure all of us have at some point. No, not adolescence. I would say he's roughly… six years old. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT or Roger… (is sad)**

I'm Ready For My Close Up!

_So Long Doc_

When I was much younger, we used to have a dog. It was the only time I remember having a pet in the house because for whatever reason, we never got another one. I remember him clear as day too even though I was only about five or six when he was alive. His name was Doc, something that I particularly loved because of how easy it was to say, and he was a huge brown mutt. I remember that his coat was a bit wiry and that his ears weren't flat like a setter's. They were all perked up and folded and they gave him a rather intelligent look. It was almost as if he were human in a way.

I loved Doc a lot… he was my favorite toy and my best friend. He always looked out for me when I played in the back yard and was always ready to lick away any salty tears that may have sprung up when I tripped and skinned a knee. Doc was always a diligent listener… his ears were always perked up and his eyes gleamed in an attentive way so as he wouldn't miss a word of what I had to say.

I miss him.

(Flashback)

"What's wrong with Doc?" Roger asked worriedly in the backseat of the car as he stroked his companion's back comfortingly. The large dog shuddered under the touch but didn't draw away from the small hand.

Roger's mother twisted back to look at the two of them and smiled as brightly as she could manage.

"We just have to take him for a little check-up is all sweetie," she cooed and Roger seemed to take this explanation willingly. Roger's father made a grunting noise from the driver's seat but his eyes never left the road. He was pushing the speed limit.

"You hear that Doc?" Roger asked, turning his attention to the dog. "Just a check-up. Nothing to be scared about." Doc turned to look at the sound of the voice and wagged his long tail feebly. His long snout didn't lift from the seat however and he almost seemed to moan.

"Not much further now… make sure he stays quiet," Roger's mother chirped from her seat. Her eyes were strained however as if they were holding back moisture… Roger didn't know that his mother had Doc since before Roger was even born. "We don't want him jumping on Daddy's lap again!" Roger giggled at the memory and continued to pet the dog.

Something was nagging at Roger's brain though… but he was too young to recognize what it meant. He just tried to ignore it and continued to pet the dog… it was soothing for the both of them. The coarse coat was so familiar to Roger.

"Hey Rog," Roger's father began after clearing his throat loudly. "The vet's office will be pretty boring. Maybe I'll just take Doc in and you and your mom can go get an ice cream or something." Mr. Davis must have noticed the worried and fretful look on his son's face because he was quick to reassure him. "You can come pick us up right after and we can all go home for some rest." Roger seemed to approve of this idea and leaned against the seat.

"Maybe," he agreed in a soft voice but never stopped petting the dog. "Ice cream is good." His mother smiled approvingly and reached back to shake her son's knee.

"I know what your favorite flavor is too," she grinned. "Chocolate and peanut butter, right?" Roger beamed at the thought of the delicacy and nodded excitedly. "Yum." Roger laughed at his mother and squirmed a little in delight.

"Hear that Doc? Chocolate and peanut butter!" Roger cried in delight. The dog made a feeble attempt at wagging his tail again but was subdued. Roger frowned at this and peered closer at the dog. "What's up Doc?" Doc just groaned a little but licked his lips in an attempt to assure the boy. Roger was not quite convinced but wasn't worried anymore.

The car finally pulled into the vet's parking lot.

(End flashback!)

As it turned out, the car was too low on gas to actually make it to the ice cream parlor, which was half way across town. It would probably only make it back to our house, which was only a few blocks away. I was a little disappointed but content to be with Doc while he had his checkup. I knew just as well as any other kid at how scary doctors could be. I was a little curious as to why my mother sat with me in the lobby instead of letting me go in with Doc but I accepted it.

It was a long wait.

(Flashback!)

"Davis?" a man in a long white coat asked while searching the small crowd of people. Roger's father raised his hand up in acknowledgement and helped Doc up to his feet.

"Let's stay out here Roger," Mrs. Davis said firmly and pulled Roger back down into his seat. She immediately saw the signs of an argument though when Roger's face clouded over and his little green eyes began to blaze dangerously. "The vet doesn't want too many people in there today," she explained quickly and instantly Roger relaxed again. Mrs. Davis knew that Roger would never break a rule that was set down with someone with as much authority as a veterinarian.

"Bye Doc!" Roger called down the hallway. "Be good, okay?" Satisfied, Roger leaned back into his chair and his eyes roamed through the room.

There were several other pets with them. One was a floppy eared cocker spaniel and there was also a tabby cat that was glaring down at the spaniel. Roger could tell though that the spaniel had no interest at all in the cat and instead seemed more intent on looking up into the faces of his owners happily and wriggling with some sort of unnamed joy. Roger had seen Doc look this way too on the many excursions that they had spent with each other and he found, strangely, that he missed the dog.

"I hope he's not scared," Roger said aloud to his mother. Mrs. Davis looked over in surprise but smiled the warmest smile she could muster at the moment.

"Even if he is, your father is there," she assured and patted Roger's hand. "Doc will be alright." Roger smiled back but the unreasonable fear was still there in the bottom of his stomach. So he persisted with his questions because he wasn't sure what to make of his emotions.

"Why does Doc need a checkup?" Roger asked but didn't notice his mother's panicked expression. She immediately tried to smooth it over though with the first thing she could think of.

"The vet just noticed that he hadn't seen Doc in a while and wanted to make sure everything was alright," Mrs. Davis insisted and left no room for another question or doubt. Roger took the explanation though he dimly remembered driving Doc down to the vet just a month ago. The time for questions were over though, he could tell by his mother's attitude. She was too defensive… too worried. And again Roger didn't know why.

So the two sat in silence again for the next twenty minutes. Mrs. Davis occasionally rubbed Roger's shoulder and Roger snuck some peeks at his mother's expression. It hardly ever seemed to change.

And then his father reemerged with a grim expression on his face.

"I think we need to tell him."

(End flashback!)

I remember being confused and scared in that moment. My father had never looked more like he had just heard one of his grandmother's had just died. I just couldn't understand it and it never occurred to me that it had something to do with Doc. I never thought it could be as terrible as that.

But I was in a rude awakening. When I was older my parents had explained to me, after my persistent questions, that Doc had been really sick with some rare dog illness. I don't even remember what it's called anymore. My parents had been giving the prescribed medication to Doc in his food for the past year or so but it wasn't doing any good they said. Doc just kept getting sicker and he got so sick that the vet had given them too choices. Take him off the meds and let him live out the rest of his days in pain or end it right then.

(Flashback!)

"Tell me what?" Roger demanded, looking scared. Mrs. Davis immediately rounded on her husband as soon as the words had left his lips, trembling in unsaid anger.

"Tell him?? And what do we tell him?" she barked, looking rather livid. Mr. Davis just raised his hands in the air but stared defiantly back at his wife.

"And what do you propose we say when we don't explain anything at all?" he retorted and Roger began to panic considerably. Why were they fighting? What was going on? Several of the other patients looked on in interest.

"He's too young!" Roger's mother protested but Roger could sense her hesitation.

"What is it?" Roger pleaded, looking pale and sick with fear. "What's happened?" Mrs. Davis just took one look at Roger's poor little face before setting her jaw but moving aside for Mr. Davis to take over.

"It's about Doc," the older man began before moving towards Roger and crouching down to his level, "He's very sick." The words seemed to have no impact on Roger and he stared blankly back at his father. He hadn't quite reached the right conclusion yet.

"So we get him medicine!" Roger declared as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Mr. Davis sighed again and shook his head sadly.

"We can't." Roger's stomach turned at this but didn't quite acknowledge the fear yet.

"But he'll get better still, right?" Mr. Davis did not respond. And then Roger began to understand. "Where is he?" Roger demanded in panic, preparing to push past his father to find his dog.

"He's in the room." Roger looked up expectantly and Mr. Davis immediately understood. He stood up and took Roger's hand, leading him to the room where Doc was waiting. Roger accepted the support and together father and son walked down the white hallway. Mrs. Davis was on Roger's other side, clearly not approving still but not complaining either.

Mr. Davis opened the door and Doc was lying on the floor, looking rather upset and sick. When he saw his family however his tail immediately began to wag and he lifted his head up in greeting. Roger quickly removed his hand from his father's and rushed over to Doc. He was just so happy to see that he was still alive and looked well!

"Doc!" he cried and took the dog's head into his arms. The wiry fur felt warm and familiar under his fingers but for the first time he noticed how it lacked it's usual sheen. Doc's hair seemed dull and his eyes not quite so bright as they used to be. But still they were turned onto Roger as he gave his master his utmost attention. "You're going to be okay Doc, it's alright!"

"Roger!" Mr. Davis said sharply from the door and quickly crossed the door. "Roger, please try to understand…"

But the vet entered the room at that moment and interrupted whatever Mr. Davis was going to say.

"We're ready," the vet stated but then noticed the small boy in the room clinging to Doc. "Oh…" he said softly, not sure what to say. Mr. Davis just nodded but remained locked onto Roger.

"Just a minute," Mr. Davis said softly. The vet nodded and took his leave quickly and left the three in the room alone together.

"Roger, Doc isn't going to be alright." Mr. Davis turned in surprise to his wife and raised his eyebrows. Mrs. Davis just shook her head and quickly crossed to where her husband stood. "We weren't able to fix him." Roger stared wide-eyed between the two and his stomach made repeated flips. He didn't care for the feeling.

"Are we going to take him home?" Roger asked in a whisper. Mrs. Davis's lower lip trembled when she shook her head in an affirmative "no". Roger looked back down at Doc and suddenly felt a surge of love and affection for Doc. It came on so powerfully and suddenly that all he could do was fling his arms around the dog's neck and hang tight, not wanting to let go.

"Come on Roger… we have to go," Mrs. Davis pleaded and touched Roger's shoulder tenderly. But Roger just hung tighter for his love for the dog had grown so great in that singular moment. Doc grunted a little but took the affection happily. "Roger," his mother said again but more urgently than before.

And Roger let go.

"Doc," he said but felt his mother's arm upon his shoulder. "Good boy Doc." And then he allowed his mother to take him from the room and away from Doc. He glanced back quickly and saw Doc staring after him, his tail thumping faithfully with an expression that told Roger that it was going to be okay.

It wasn't until Roger had left the room and was halfway down the hallway that the reality sunk in. And the tears began to flow down his cheeks in great torrents and he made to go back into the room.

"Doc!" he cried but found himself in a barrier of his mother's solid arms. "What are they going to do?" His mother just held tight and managed to bring him to the lobby again. "What are they doing to Doc?" Roger screamed in his sudden pain, anger, and terror. "Tell them to leave him alone!"

Now more than just a few patients were interested in the scene. All eyes were on the pair as Mrs. Davis managed to bring Roger to the door while all the while crying herself.

"Your Dad won't let them hurt him!" his mother insisted while making sure her grip was iron strong. "They won't hurt Doc!" But Roger seemed not to understand her words.

"What are they doing to him?" he demanded before suddenly falling silent with a whimper. "He's scared!" Roger bawled pitifully. "He's scared and alone and he doesn't know what they're gonna do to him!" Roger's mother just tried to calm him with gentle reassuring sounds and words, stroking his hair and all the while heading towards the door.

"Doc's brave… he'll be okay," she whispered soothingly, kissing Roger's hair.

"No, he's scared!" Roger cried once more before his mother took him back through the doors. And his legs seemed to give out so great was his distress. "He's scared, I know it!" Roger's mother quickly scooped him up into her arms and carried him the rest of the way.

(End flashback!)

I didn't talk to anyone for weeks. My father had given me Doc's collar after the deed was done but I barely noticed. It was nothing compared to the real Doc. Nothing. I would see a dog on the street and burst into tears or someone would mention a doctor and I would immediately fall silent. I never really got over the grief of losing my first true friend.

Doc will always hold a special place in my heart and in my memory. I've never forgotten him and I don't think I ever will.

**A/N: Okay… so a little weird and depressing but hopefully enjoyable. And I promise, LiveLoveRENT, that your Roger/Mimi will be in the next chapter. Though I remind you again that the rating is K+ (glares). **


	16. Randomness With Mimi Marquez: Round Two

**A/N: Well, I'm back again! So, as I promised in the last chapter, this chapter is dedicated to LiveLoveRENT because she loves Roger/Mimi and tells me often. So here you are! I **_**told**_** you I would dedicate it to you:D I appreciate all the reviews guys!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Roger Davis which also means I have no rights to Rent. **

I'm Ready For My Close Up!

_Randomness With Mimi Marquez: The Kiddy Carnival_

I'm sure someone is wondering what happened when Mimi and I went to that Kiddy Carnival after she had jerked me out of my emo/depressed mood. Well let me tell you, it was certainly special. We were probably the second oldest people there (there was an elderly couple escorting their grandkids that were of course older than us) because the entire population was between the ages of 6-13 and most were unaccompanied by adults. This seemed to make no one nervous.

And we did what most normal people would do… we rode on the rides, made out a little, got cotton candy, made out a little more, and spent most of Mimi's pay on disgusting corndogs. We didn't make out after this… just in case you were wondering. They were REALLY disgusting. Other than that though, itt really was a spectacular evening.

(Flashback!)

"Are you sure Mark didn't want to come?" Mimi asked and Roger nodded in affirmative. She seemed to grin craftily at this and snuggled a little more in the crook of Roger's arm that was draped around her shoulders. "Well I'm glad." Roger laughed a little but the depression was still hanging over him. Mimi noticed and quickly tried to make it right.

"So what do we do?" Roger asked nervously as he surveyed the rides with little interest. Mimi sighed exaggeratedly and whirled around to face Roger.

"Are you kidding? When you go to one of these things you're ALWAYS supposed to go on the most dangerous roller coaster!" Mimi explained with mock seriousness. Roger decided to play along for her sake and pretended to be enlightened.

"Oh yeah… duh," he replied with a sarcastic eye roll. This made Mimi giggle at least. "How about that one then?" Roger asked and pointed to a rickety old purple tracked roller coaster with bright green oddly shaped cars, still acting like this was important. The coaster looked like it could fall apart at any moment and several patches of the framework were clumped with rust. It was truly a hideous looking metal deathtrap but it made Mimi squeal in delight.

"That's perfect!" she cried and began to drag Roger toward it, much to his surprise and fear.

"You mean you were serious?" Roger yelped and eyed the thing with distasted. "We could _die _on that thing!" he protested and Mimi laughed yet again (and not for the last time that night either).

"Oh come on you big baby," Mimi teased and continued to try and drag Roger over. Unfortunately, Roger weighed more than her and he was now putting all of his weight into his heels, balking at the sight of the ride.

"No, Mimi… seriously," Roger exclaimed with fear becoming truly evident in his voice. "This is madness." Normally, Mimi might have had sympathy for her boyfriend and would have left him alone if she hadn't noticed that in his terror he had forgotten his depression. This gave her no choice but to continue with what she was doing.

"I promise that I won't let the roller coaster hurt you," Mimi joked and tugged as hard as she could on Roger's sleeve. "You only live once you know!" she cried in an attempt to guilt him into going into it for her. It worked.

"Fine," Roger sighed and now allowed himself to fall in step with Mimi but still he glared at her. "But if my life ends up being even SHORTER than it's supposed to be because of this I will so never talk to you in the afterlife." Mimi winked at him and gave him an endearing smile.

"I bet you would," she disagreed and Roger rolled his eyes behind her back.

"You're obnoxious," he muttered but the light tone was still in his voice.

"You're a crybaby," Mimi countered and Roger decided not to push it anymore. In fact, they had been so immersed in their silly banter that they hardly noticed that there was a young man ushering them into a car.

Roger uttered an oath as he found himself squashed into the seat next to Mimi with his elbows jutting painfully into the sides of the plastic car.

"It'll be fun," Mimi whispered to Roger in his ear and for a moment he truly believed her and relaxed. But Mimi's spell was broken as soon as the car began to move forward on the perilous track. Roger could literally FEEL the cart groan with the strain of lugging them both up the steep hill the track made. He opted for a stunned silence rather than a stream of profanities for the sake of the children in the cart behind them.

This, of course, all changed once the ride began to pick up speed and reached the top of the hill. Then, Roger couldn't help but let out a little yelp as the car zoomed down and the clanking of wheels against metal filled the silence. Mimi, naturally, was laughing insanely and gripping onto Roger's shoulder with an iron grip. Roger thought it was because she was afraid he would try and jump off in an attempt to save his own skin.

Which had never actually crossed his mind of course.

Once they had reached the bottom of the hill the cart was approaching a turn and Roger was relieved since he thought that meant that car was going to have to slow down in order to make it. Imagine how his heart plunged when they got closer and closer to the turn and the cart seemed to have no intention of either slowing down OR turning.

As the thoughts of the cart flying off the track filled Roger's mind he suddenly came to terms with the fact that he was going to die on this coaster. Almost as if it were instinct Roger reached over and clutched Mimi's waist, pulling her closer. Mimi tried her best not to laugh and instead felt incredibly touched that he had some sort of need to protect her. But she had been on this ride before and knew exactly what would happen.

Roger screwed his eyes shut and wondered why no one was screaming yet since it was obvious they were going to fall off the side of the track. Imagine his surprise when the cart made an entirely safe and sharp turn at the last possible second instead of flying right into the sky and into the crowd.

"What?" he shouted and Mimi couldn't help but giggle a little.

"It's part of the ride!" she called but her voice seemed quiet against the wind that was picking up as the ride continued to speed up. Roger scowled a little but didn't remove his arms from Mimi's waist. He still didn't trust this thing.

Five minutes later, the two were stumbling away from the bright green roller coaster and were making their way to some benches about fifty feet from the coaster.

"I am so going to kill you for that," Roger mumbled as he tried to catch his breath and regain the stiffness in his legs. Right now his kneecaps were trembling traitorously and he would be utterly distraught if Mimi noticed this.

"But it was kind of fun right?" Mimi asked, pretending not to notice Roger's poor attempts at hiding his weak legs. Roger just shot her a glare but squeezed her hand in assurance. He wasn't really angry with her and Mimi was glad to know that she really didn't push him too far.

"It was okay," Roger mumbled, "Once I realized that we weren't going to die." Mimi stifled a chuckle and decided to go easy on Roger.

"Well for being such a good boy about it you can pick the next ride," Mimi compromised and Roger seemed somewhat satisfied with this. However, she noticed that he had a strange look on his face and recognized it with a heavy sigh. "Yes, we can get something to eat first."

"Thank god!"

(End flashback)

That roller coaster was scary! I do have to admit though that it was a little exciting… once we got past all the near death experiences. Mimi actually tried to get me to go on it again but she must have been crazy if she thought I would fall for the 'you only live once' thing again. I had already tried that ride and I wasn't going to have a repeat experience, thank you.

I don't know why but I've always been afraid of roller coasters. I think it might be because they are too unpredictable. I hate it when something is hard to predict. But I love Mimi so I'm not sure how that really works since she's one of the most unpredictable people I know besides Maureen. But in a good way… it's exciting instead of scary. Being with Mimi I mean.

Well I realized something important that night at the fair… something that I could use against Mimi for the rest of our lives. She's afraid of heights.

(Flashback)

"Cotton candy isn't exactly a meal Roger," Mimi informed her boyfriend for the third time that evening. Roger just rolled his eyes at her and took another wad of the sticky fluff off the incredibly high mound.

"You only live once," he reminded and Mimi scowled at him darkly.

"Don't you dare use my logic against me Mr. Davis," Mimi demanded but Roger could tell that she was going to let the matter rest. Besides, she was taking just as much of the sugary sweetness as he was. Hypocrite.

"So what next?" Roger asked through a mouthful of pink.

"You're supposed to pick, remember?" Mimi said with an exasperated sigh. She was just mad because Roger had actually won an argument that night and he took this with great pride.

"Oh yeah," Roger murmured thoughtfully and allowed his eyes to roam around the park. There was a Tilt-O-Whirl that looked a little too tilty for Roger's taste and a Haunted House that seemed to be made of nothing more than crepe paper and cardboard monsters. Frustrated, Roger kept on looking through his options but began to feel too limited when he noticed that there weren't even bumper cars available.

The he saw the Ferris Wheel and a smile tugged at his lips.

"Let's do the Ferris Wheel," Roger insisted and began to walk pointedly towards the towering ride and didn't notice how Mimi paled and hesitated.

"Are you sure you want to go on _that_ ride Roger?" she asked hopefully. Her hopes were destroyed when Roger nodded passionately.

"It's my favorite ride… that's what you wanted me to pick right?" Roger asked, a little impatient. Now that he knew there was a Ferris Wheel he wanted to get there as soon as possible.

"It's so high though," Mimi protested and pursed her lips. "I don't think it's safe." Roger raised his eyebrows suspiciously and Mimi quickly covered up for herself. "I know how you're afraid of these rides… they really aren't well put together at all." Roger laughed shortly and tugged on Mimi's coat sleeve.

"It's no more dangerous than that roller coaster… now come on!" Roger demanded. Mimi didn't want to appear as weak as Roger had been so she followed quietly though the dread was growing in the pit of her stomach.

The going was rough because of the huge crowds but eventually the two reached the Ferris Wheel and were standing in the short line to get on. Roger never noticed how Mimi squirmed uncomfortably next to him or how she stared up at the ride in growing terror. Eventually, a seat was available and the control person motioned for Roger and Mimi to get on. He looked rather cranky so Roger pulled Mimi along rather quickly and hastily helped her into the seat before pulling the safety bar down around them.

Then the ride was going and Mimi was trembling. This time Roger noticed and looked down at her in concern.

"Are you cold?" he asked, thinking of their weak immune systems. Mimi shook her head though faintly and stared down at the ground with wide eyes. Then Roger knew what was going on. "You're afraid of heights!"

"Lots of people are," Mimi dismissed offhandedly. Roger chuckled and pulled Mimi into himself, protecting her from whatever she might be afraid of.

"You do know that I could tease you forever about this right?" Roger asked and he could feel Mimi nod against his shoulder but said nothing. "You're _really_ scared aren't you?" Mimi looked up at him with her beautiful brown eyes widened in terror.

"N-no…" Mimi stuttered unconvincingly. Roger sighed and rubbed her shoulder soothingly, letting her know that he was there for her. Or maybe it was to tell her not to try and make a dive out the side like he had considered doing on the roller coaster. This movement made the cart shift noticeably.

"Don't shake it Roger!" Mimi screeched and gripped the sides of the seat in a death grip. Roger held as still as possible and eyed Mimi warily.

"You really need to relax," he noted helpfully. Mimi just shot him a look.

"Sorry for not wanting to plunge to our death!" she snapped and gave him a good hearty glare. Just then, the ride came to a sudden halt at the very top of the Wheel, causing new shrieks to come from Mimi's mouth.

"They're just letting someone else on!" Roger cried in exasperation. "Honestly!"

"So you're a tough guy now?" Mimi asked scathingly, becoming rather insensitive in her panic. Roger just rolled his eyes and turned a little to face her, ignoring Mimi's indignant cries.

"Have you never gone on one of these?" Roger asked. Mimi cocked an eyebrow at him but shook her head.

"Do you think I've ever allowed myself on something this high?" Mimi paused as she thought about something and quickly edited her statement. "Except for maybe the fire escape outside my apartment. Once or twice and it's not nearly this high up." Roger grinned and raised his eyebrows.

"So then you obviously don't know what couples do on these things do you?" he whispered somewhat seductively and Mimi felt her pulse quicken ever so slightly.

"Why you have to ask an idiotic question I've no idea…" Mimi began but was cut off by Roger's lips embracing hers in a lovely kiss. She was happy for the distraction and the affection and eagerly returned the kiss, now realizing what she had been missing. Neither of them noticed when the ride started up again or when they passed the cranky control man before starting up again. By this time Mimi had her arms wrapped around Roger's neck and his hands were grasping at her waist and hair frantically.

Unfortunately (or maybe not) whenever Roger tried to pull away for air Mimi just pulled him back again roughly. He had taken to taking huge breaths whenever he was allowed a brief moment to breath before continuing on with the make out session. How Mimi made it through he had no idea.

"I'm sorry I've been such a jerk lately," Roger managed to gasp out between kisses. Mimi only responded by making the kiss deeper… something Roger was hardly objecting to.

Suddenly they realized that they were stopped and hadn't moved again in quiet a while. They broke apart unceremoniously and saw that the cranky man was glaring at them pointedly, clearly telling them that they needed to get the hell out of the seat. Mimi glanced at Roger and then grinned craftily.

"We'd like to go again," Mimi said and held out the proper amount of tickets out to the man. Obviously, the control man had no objection to this and sent them up again for another round, pretending not to notice when the couple immediately went at it again.

(End flashback)

Yeah… I really love Ferris Wheels. Especially when you ride one with Mimi… she gets all vulnerable and cute and a little desperate too. Not that she objects to making out normally but I don't think she'd ever been that intense about it before. It was then when I was riding it with her that I realized how little I had thought about my mother or my own death. It was something I will always be eternally grateful to Mimi for.

Anyway, the evening went a long splendidly. I didn't get Mimi to go up the Ferris Wheel for a third time but that didn't stop us from expressing our affection on other rides. This included the stupid Haunted House and a Tunnel of Love.

It was probably the most blissful night of my life.

(Flashback)

"Those corndogs were so gross," Mimi giggled as she tossed her napkin and stick into a trashcan. Her arm was draped around Roger's back and Roger's own arm was stuck to her waist.

"Agreed." Roger too threw away his greasy napkins and grinned. "They tasted pretty good though." Mimi nodded and a wide smile flitted across her face.

"As much as it saddens me to admit it, they were pretty good," she agreed as the two wandered aimlessly around the park taking in the sights. "I can't believe that we spent two week's worth of my money on the food here." Roger looked rather guilty at this.

"I told you I would pay with what I had…" he protested but Mimi silenced him quickly.

"No way, you need that for your medication!" she disagreed and glared up at him. Damn him for being so tall! "I have a job, I can survive." Roger still looked uncomfortable but decided not to continue the conversation or else it could turn out to be a major argument.

"It's getting late," Roger noted and looked around the park. "They'll be closing soon won't they?" Mimi nodded and sighed.

"This was so much fun," Mimi murmured and sadly looked around at the glittering neon lights. Roger also looked saddened at the prospect of leaving the park.

"I wish we had more time…" Roger trailed off sadly and Mimi knew he wasn't talking about the fair. She repressed the sigh forming in her throat and she slipped her arm off his back and instead laced her fingers through his.

"Hey," she said and stopped, making him look down at her. "We've still got time." Roger smiled at her and nodded slowly.

"Sorry," he apologized and Mimi waved it away.

"I know you can't help but be morbid. I'm used to it." Roger liked the teasing tone in her voice and they continued walking towards the streets.

The dirt and grime covering the apartment buildings and pavement contrasted so sharply with the brightness of the fair that Roger nearly forgot where he was. It was like leaving some alternate reality and entering into the real world again. It was a rather depressing and overwhelming feeling. And suddenly, for some reason through the bleakness of the atmosphere, Roger felt another great surge of love for Mimi and felt the need to flirt.

"What do you say we go to your apartment tonight?" Roger asked and wagged his eyebrows at Mimi. "You know how light of a sleeper Mark is." Mimi grinned and tightened her grip on Roger's hand.

"We better hurry then," she laughed and she began to run, dragging Roger along behind her. This time though he was far from unwilling and began to run along side of her. Their warm breath came in puffs as the hot air contrasted with the cold and still they ran, ignoring and avoiding the patches of ice and slushy snow.

For a night they were free of fear and regret and were free simply to love.

**A/N: I know I usually close with some final thoughts from Roger but I thought this was a better way to end it. I don't know if it really matters though. Anyway, there you are LiveLoveRENT. I hope you liked it. And please, all of you who read this story, review!!**


	17. The Date

**A/N: Well, I'm **_**finally**_** back. Sorry about the long absence but I had a lovely case of writer's block when it came to this story. But I'm back now! This will take place during Roger's childhood. **

**Disclaimer: Do I really have to keep doing this? I don't own it. Really. **

I'm Ready For My Close Up!

_The Date_

Ah… I can remember my first date like it was yesterday. I was thirteen and the girl's name was Francesca. Yes… the girl who I tried to fight Pedro off to see again who sat in front of me in Biology. I suppose my near death experience gave me the courage to ask her out.

What a nightmare.

(Flashback!)

There she was, sitting just in front of Roger.

He fiddled with his pencil and stared down at his notes, trying to comprehend them. What was mitosis? Did it have something to do with… Francesca? No.

Roger glanced up from his paper to the back of her head and hastily looked down again. So he flipped his paper over that he was supposed to be taking notes on and began to make a list on the back. It was a list of Pros and Cons.

_Pros:_

_I really like her_

_She's really funny_

_She's so pretty_

_She's helped me pass Biology_

_I've been wanting to ask her out since I met her_

Roger surveyed his list and his lips tugged upward into a smile. Okay… so far so good.

_Cons: _

_She might laugh at me_

_She might not like me_

_She might think I'm stupid_

_She might say 'no' _

Roger grimaced at these prospects and felt like crumpling the paper up. But then the bell rang so he simply stuffed the paper in his bag, wondering if he would be able to actually do it or not. Would he be able to ask Francesca out on a date?

"Umm… Roger?" a small, female voice asked. Roger nearly jumped out of his seat when he saw that Francesca herself was staring back at him, brown eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay? You've been really distant during class today." Roger just blushed a little and brushed the concern away.

"Just had a rough night is all," he explained which wasn't exactly a lie. He had been up all night trying to think of ways to ask her but now he was thinking it was in vain. "Thanks," he muttered and made for the door. As he got closer though Francesca called out to him again.

"Roger!" she shouted and ran a couple steps closer to him. Roger stopped and turned around, trying to keep his cool. "Umm… I was wondering…" she stammered and fingered her shirt nervously. "Do you want to sit with me at lunch?" Roger stared at her blankly before his clearing his throat. His mind was once more at a crossroads but he didn't have time to think. He just had time to blurt out what he knew was _right_.

"Yes… I would like that very much," Roger agreed and smiled widely at her. Francesca beamed back and grabbed her bag.

"Great!" Roger smiled and nodded. "Walk me to my next class?" Roger's smile widened and he nodded, waiting for her at the door. Francesca skipped over and continued smiling.

"Great," Roger grinned, echoing Francesca's sentiment.

(End flashback!)

Okay… so Francesca made the first move. What can I say? I was thirteen and shy with girls! I can't help it that I'm attracted to really outgoing and confident women…

Anyway, lunch was really just us getting to know each other. We didn't go on an _official _date until I asked her on Friday. Well… I more like stammered a few sentence fragments but apparently Francesca could understand because she agreed to go with me. That or she was just _really_ nice.

(Flashback)

"What movie do you want to see?" Roger asked as the two squinted up at various movie posters and their times. Francesca shrugged a little.

"That one looks good," she said, pointing to one with a noncommittal shrug. "What do you think?" Roger was just relieved to have someone make a decision already.

"I heard it was really good," he said with an approving nod. "Let's see that one then." Francesca smiled and followed Roger over to the ticket booth. Roger was just wondering if he should be holding her hand or not.

"Can I help you?" a teenage boy asked from behind the ticket booth, looking a little bored.

"Two tickets for…" Roger's voice trailed away and he glanced towards Francesca hopefully. She just rolled her eyes but smiled at him.

"That one," she said and pointed to the correct film. The boy just nodded offhandedly and handed them their tickets.

"There's refreshments further down in the lobby," the boy instructed mechanically, "And your theater is to the left. Enjoy your film." Francesca raised her eyebrows and shared a little smirk with Roger.

"Thank you!" they both chirped and tried not to laugh when the boy just gave them a bored wave.

"Well he was friendly," Roger muttered and the two laughed all the way into the theater.

This was the most natural and easy part of their date.

(End flashback!)

I cringe to even think about the rest of the date. We were both anything but smooth. Francesca tried several times to save the date but I remember thinking it was too late to change it. It wasn't exactly our last date… but it was one heck of an experience.

(Flashback!)

All throughout the movie Roger inwardly panicked. Should he hold her hand? Would she be freaked out if he did? Did she expect him to? Is he supposed to share his soda with her? Does she just want to drink from her own soda? Should he offer her candy yet? Will the offer of chocolate just offend her? Should he put his arms around her shoulders? Should he just watch the movie?

So many questions with so few obvious answers.

It didn't help much that Francesca looked cool as a cucumber. She just munched contentedly on popcorn as the opening trailers plugged on, smiling cutely at him every now and then.

Roger just knew that he was going to screw this up.

Roger didn't want to let her down but he didn't want to freak her out either. He gnawed on his lower lip, hardly paying attention to the opening attractions. He should probably just start with something easy and simple. Candy.

"Do you want some candy?" Roger asked quietly and Francesca nodded.

"Thanks Roger!" she beamed and settled further back into her chair, eyes fixed ahead again. Roger grinned and felt his emotions soar. He had passed the first test! So he reached a little distractedly into a small bag to pull out the sugary sweets. He was still nervous that he would screw something up, despite his success.

So it was with nervous fingers that he pried open the cardboard box. And the box ripped right down the middle when he tugged at the opening. Small pieces of candy flew everywhere, including Francesca's lap.

Francesca emitted a quiet squeak of surprise and looked down at her knees and shoes. Then she looked over at Roger questioningly, not looking angry but merely alarmed. Roger sheepishly held up the ripped box and grimaced. Francesca just gave a small smile, getting over her shock, and picked up a couple pieces from her knees.

"It's okay," she whispered across to him. "I like strong guys." Roger just grinned sheepishly and silently rammed his head against the back of his seat. Not to mention the glares he was getting from the various audience members around him.

"Idiot," he hissed under his breath under the blaring opening theme for the movie. He was so ashamed of his mistake that he was silent and withdrawn through most of the first half of the movie. That was, until he noticed Francesca looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

Great. Now his girlfriend of one week was concerned about him. He flashed her a smile and moved in a little closer to her seat. Francesca smiled back and turned most of her attention back to the movie screen. She still looked though.

Roger suddenly wanted to try again. He wanted to hold her hand in the theater. His hand reached over to where he knew hers was waiting, nervous and worrying himself into a heartattack But he forgot about the soda holders and soon his palm connected with Francesca's Coca Cola. He quickly withdrew his hand before he could knock it over but couldn't forget the look of disappointment on Francesca's face. He inwardly cursed and squinted in the dark theater. What else was there that he didn't know about?

"You okay?" Francesca asked, eyes still facing ahead but her voice showing concern. Roger sighed and whispered back.

"I'm afraid so." Francesca just smiled a little but didn't look over at him. Roger was afraid that he had offended her… again. But this time, he was not so discouraged. He was actually eager to try something else to make it up to Francesca.

Palms sweating, Roger contemplated what the safest move would be. Should he try to grab her hand again? He didn't think he should. It was like a cave in this theater and he was bound to knock the soda over. More candy? Yeah… right. He thought maybe he should offer some of his soda to her but decided that was just gross. So what else was there?

Roger looked slyly over at Francesca's face, illuminated by the glow of the movie screen. Roger was suddenly inspired by something he saw in a T.V. show. Maybe it would work. His stomach squirmed uncomfortably and each moment he began to believe he would do it the worms in his gut would only wiggle around more. So there were two choices. Throw up or just do the darn thing.

Roger nearly threw his arm around Francesca's shoulders. Luckily, his arm made it but he could fell Francesca start at the impact. Her eyes widened and her head whipped around to find out what had jumped on her. When she saw that the arm belonged to the body of Roger Davis she just placed a hand against her thumping heart but smiled through the adrenaline rush. She was already a little happier.

Roger pretended not to notice her looking at him but inwardly he celebrated. He finally earned a point for his team.

(End flashback)

I remember swearing to myself that I was never going on a first date again. It was just THAT horribly awkward for me and for Francesca but somehow I managed through it. And though our relationship didn't last as long as others I still never regret finally going out with her. She was really an amazing person and I'm sure she went on to do great things.

She was still involved in the worst first date I ever had.

**A/N: I'm not quite so proud of this one but I still like it. Please review!**


	18. The First Boho Boy Christmas

**A/N: So, this will be the oober special Christmas Edition for this story! I know it's still a little early but because I don't know when I'll be able to update this one again I figured I should go ahead and do this. So, hopefully this is fun and always remember that I love reviews. (hinthint)**

**And you may have noticed that the story has been bumped up to a "T". This is simply because I was looking back on it and I've decided that the story needs a little room to breath and that a "K+" wasn't cutting it. So, there's more language in this one in honor of the story being bumped up in rating. **

**Aaaaand… there's a not-so-subtle reference to the movie commentary in here! Yay?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it. **

I'm Ready For My Close Up!

_The First 'Boho Boy' Christmas_

I will always remember the first time that I spent Christmas with the best friends I would ever have. It was just me, Mark, Collins, and the newest addition of Benny. It was really a Christmas for the ages. I doubt I will ever have an experience on Christmas that will be the parallel. Which says something, since every Christmas these days something huge seems to happen.

Seriously, what's up with that? Doesn't fate have any other day that it can work on?

(Flashback)

"All right Roger, pay up," Mark demanded, scrutinizing Roger through his glasses. Roger sighed but began to rummage through his pant pockets, searching for his wallet.

"I've got," Roger began as he finally found the wallet and began to leaf through it casually. "Um, three dollars and, uh, thirty-six cents." With this announcement, Roger placed the money in the center. Mark and Benny sighed at the same time; only Mark put his head in his hands.

"So… we don't have enough for the rent _and_ Christmas?" Collins asked as he allowed all four legs of his chair to reach the ground again with a slam. Mark really hated how Collins would tip back so far; it made him nervous. "_Shit_!"

On the table there was a grand total of eighty-nine dollars and thirty-six cents (though Roger suspected that Collins had an extra twenty stashed away from his paycheck, not that it would have helped anything.) The boys needed much more than that for the rent and they would need all of it if they wanted to do anything for Christmas.

"So we have a choice," Roger reasoned, eyeing the money. "Pay the rent and go without Christmas niceness or not pay the rent and have a Christmas without any electricity."

"Those are some pretty fucked up choices," Mark mused as he took his glasses off to clean them quickly. It was becoming a habit, Roger noticed.

There was a moment of thoughtful silence between the four friends. Then, someone spoke up.

"We could just not pay the rent," Benny suggested. "Screw the landlord for this month and we can go buy each other something for Christmas. Maybe we could even get some beer up in here." Everyone turned to look at him, mulling this over.

"You really want to skip out on the rent?" Collins asked, somewhat amused. "I suppose we could do it."

"It could be our Christmas present to ourselves," Roger agreed, a smile slipping over his features. "Keeping this extra money."

"But it won't be a present to ourselves when we have to put up with the cold of New York in December," Mark pointed out pessimistically. "We don't have enough blankets to keep ourselves warm."

"Aww," Benny teased. "C'mon Marky! It would just be one month of cold. We could use the extra money to buy some more blankets or whatever." Mark gave Benny a sideways glance before reluctantly returning his enthusiasm.

"It does give us a sense of freedom," he grudgingly admitted. "I think it's a good idea."

"So, it's agreed?" Collins asked, a huge crack smile growing across his friendly features. "We're just not going to pay this month?"

"Man, it will be nice not having to worry about that shit," Roger exclaimed and sprang up. "Not having to scrounge for dollars under the floorboards or using Mark and I as a pity couple for the people in the space below us so they'll give us money."

"It's not our fault that they think you two are lovers," Collins protested, frowning at Roger's accusatory tone. "If you two weren't so…"

"Hey!" Mark cutoff, frowning again. "I'm sick of that joke." Collins held his hands up to ward off Mark's anger and chuckled.

"Still a touchy subject I see," he taunted but allowed Benny to change the topic of conversation.

"I think this could be one of the smartest things we've done," Benny declared, grinning like the happy fool he was. "We could make it a tradition!"

Roger snorted. "Sure, maybe," he replied noncommittally.

"Alright, let's go get drunk before this turns into a made-for-T.V. Christmas Special," Collins grunted, going to get his coat. "Last man out the door has to buy."

(End flashback)

And really, not paying the rent was one of the best things we had ever done together. Although the sheer irony of the fact that _Benjamin Coffin III _was the one to suggest it still makes me laugh bitterly today.

Though, this wasn't the only highlight of Christmas that year. We all found out something new about one of us and it was good material for long after Christmas was over.

(Flashback)

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly," Roger sang with faux cheer as he rummaged through some of his belongings in dusty boxes. These were some of the boxes he had taken with him after moving from his house and he suspected there might be a few Christmas things that his mother had insisted he take. He was right.

From the depths of the box marked 'Miscellaneous Crap' (courtesy of Roger himself) came a few Christmas tree ornaments, a faded wreath, and a rather large Frosty the Snowman figure made from plastic.

Roger, pleased with his findings and his contribution, quickly went to show off what he had.

"Look what I've got!" he crowed and lugged the items out into the small kitchenette where the rest of his roommates were. "I told you that my mom was overbearing, and look what she packed for me!" Collins was the first to look and his face broke into a wide grin.

"A wreath!" he observed, "I haven't seen one of those in years!"

"And look," Benny cooed menacingly. "An ornament for Roger's first Christmas! That goes at the top of our potential Christmas tree!" Roger made a face at Benny as he displayed his belongings on the metal table in their living room. This is why he didn't notice the look of absolute fear on Mark Cohen's face.

"And don't forget Frosty," Roger chuckled as he set the snowman upright on the table.

"Frosty the Snowman," Collins sang gaily as he went over to help Roger find a place for the plastic figurine. "He's a jolly… golly… man?"

Roger snorted at Collins's attempt. "Nice try, but I think the words are a little more clever than that."

"With an old felt hat and a button nose," Benny joined in as he opened the top to another beer. "And two eyes made out of—"

"Stop!" Mark nearly screamed, eyes wild and frantic with terror. "Stop singing that song!" The three roommates immediately stopped their merriment and gaped at Mark, stunned.

"Mark?" Roger gasped, the shock still clear on his face.

Mark felt the stares of his roommates and he quickly composed himself, laughing nervously. "Er, sorry. I think I forgot to… take that allergy medicine. You know how crazy I get when I've got allergies," he lied unconvincingly, sidling his way out of the room. "I'll just go to my room and get it."

"Please, Mark," Roger sighed, rolling his eyes. "You don't have allergies. There's nothing to be allergic to in winter in New York; everything is dead. And you don't have any food allergies, so come off it." Mark flushed and fingered his scarf nervously.

"Well… it's just that… um…" Mark stuttered, looking for an excuse, any excuse! Collins was quicker to realize what was wrong and he broke into raucous laughter.

"You're afraid of _Frosty the Snowman_?!" he bellowed and slapped the table in an attempt to keep himself upright. "Of all the things to be afraid of…" Collins said and giggled.

"You _are_!" Roger triumphantly concluded and looked between the snowman and Mark with glee spreading quickly over his features. "That explains so much!"

"Why?" Benny asked, "Did he stay away from anything snowman shaped while growing up?"

"Well, he refused to help me make one that one year it snowed eight feet," Roger recalled, counting off on his fingers. "He never wanted to put the snowman ornament on his tree (he made his Mom do it), he wouldn't use the pathway to our house whenever I put Frosty up on the path (he would use the garage to come through to the house). Oh, Mark! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry!" Mark moaned. "I can't help it! When I was six I was locked in a school closet for four hours and there happened to be Christmas decorations in there! Frosty just stared at me from his little perch, all happy and demented looking. I always associate him with the trauma," he explained, hiding his face in his hands.

"You never told me about that either!" Roger cried, pretending to be offended. "I don't know you at all!"

"Shut up, Roger," Mark snapped weakly from behind his hands.

"Wow," Collins said, stretching the syllables so that the word was mocking.

"I would have never thought it," Benny agreed.

But at this moment, as the friends teased and taunted poor Mark, Roger got an idea. An awful idea. Roger had a wonderful, awful idea.

As the sly smirk flitted it's way across Roger's face, Benny and Collins caught sight of it and soon had matching expressions. They loved it when Roger had a stroke of genius.

But poor Mark never saw these conniving faces, for his eyes were still hidden behind his trembling, pale hands.

…………………………………….

"No, don't put it _there,_ Collins!"

"Well where do _you_ suggest we put it then?"

"Put it up there!"

"He won't be able to see it if it's up there!

"How about over there?"

"That's perfect!"

"Nice!"

"Oh, shit, I think he's coming!"

Mark heard the voices to the bathroom and raised his eyebrows suspiciously. What would all three of them be doing in there… at the same time? Together? Something in Mark's gut told him that he didn't even want to pretend to know.

"Umm… I'm coming in," Mark announced but to him it sounded more like a question. He heard the voices all stop babbling to each other. Then, all three slunk out of the bathroom with much too innocent smiles on their faces.

"Hey buddy," Collins said and gave Mark a punch on the shoulder.

"We'll get out of your way," Roger offered and all three sauntered easily from the area.

Mark stared after them in a befuddled way and glanced into the bathroom curiously. Then, despite his better judgment, Mark cautiously entered the bathroom.

Roger, Benny, and Collins peeked around the corner of the small hallway, watching Mark's progress with eager smiles. When Mark finally closed the bathroom door with a click they were all almost in hysterics, waiting for it.

Several long seconds passed.

Then, they all heard an inhuman scream.

"Who the _fuck_ put Frosty the Snowman in the bathroom?" Mark screeched and came flying out of the bathroom, clutching his heart and breathing heavily. "And in the shower, of all places!"

"I hope he appreciated that we gave him a shower cap," Roger replied once he could muster up a straight face. Benny and Collins were doubled over, unable to continue with whatever witty dialogue that Roger had started.

"This is cruel," Mark hissed, slamming the door shut. "I want you to get Frosty out of there so I can shave in peace, please!" Roger chuckled but complied, walking back into the bathroom.

"All right, all right," he agreed, trying to appease his friend. "Just a joke, that's all. It won't happen again." Roger winked at Mark and went into the shower to haul down Frosty but the awful, wonderful idea still stuck with him.

(End flashback)

It happened eight more times. We put Frosty in the kitchenette by the stove, in the living room by the door, in our couch to read a book, in Mark's room to take a nap, in the bathroom again to brush his teeth and shave, in the stairwell leading down to the street just outside of our door, in the fire escape by the window, and above the door so he could surprise Mark.

The fun finally ended when Mark chucked Frosty out the window so it would promptly be run over by a rather large car.

Despite our torturing of Mark, we all also were preparing for Christmas the best we could. And when the day came, we all had something special to share with each other.

(Flashback)

"Open mine first!" Roger insisted, dropping a shabbily wrapped box on Mark's lap. Mark laughed and hoisted the thing up to his eyelevel, inspecting it closely.

"I don't suppose Frosty's remains could have fit in this box," Mark chuckled darkly.

"Nah, I couldn't find them. Otherwise I would have tried," Roger explained. Mark glared at him coldly. And then he began to slowly peel apart the paper to reveal a white box.

Mark's curiosity sharpened as he examined the box, despite himself. As Roger looked on, Mark clawed open the cardboard and revealed…

"A basket for my bike!" he yelped, eying it lovingly.

"You've been complaining that you've got nowhere to put your groceries or screenplays when you're riding your bike for months now," Roger explained, grinning. "I couldn't wait to jump at the chance to shut you up." Mark made an ugly face at Roger but went back to examining the basket.

"Where did you _find_ this?" Mark wondered, bewildered. Roger gave Mark and mock glare.

"The number one rule of Christmas is that you never reveal where or how you bought a present," Roger recited solemnly.

"And the second rule is that you wake everyone up before opening presents!" a loud voice bellowed from one of the bedrooms. "What the hell are you guys doing?"

"Relax Collins," Mark hollered back before turning back to Roger. "Quick, open mine before he gets out here. I want to piss him off," Mark instructed quickly. Roger grinned and accepted the parcel eagerly.

"Christmas traditions never die," he chuckled, remembering that Mark and Roger used to always meet before their parents were awake to exchange gifts. "I wonder what it is," Roger added thoughtfully.

"I'm not going to tell you," Mark snorted. "Open and see!" Roger sighed melodramatically but did as Mark said.

Roger quickly tore apart the paper and stared down at the gift it revealed. "A flyer for a band looking for a lead guitarist and singer?" Roger asked, awed. "You may be cheap Mark but you sure know what I've been wanting the most." Mark allowed this, grinning.

"I looked for just the right kind of advertisement all weekend," Mark explained. "I knew what you were interested in for a band." Roger smiled, feeling his strong friendship with Mark deepen.

"How rude," Collins grumbled, suddenly appearing by the paper tree the boys made the night before. "Everyone was supposed to be present for this."

"Aww, don't be mad," Roger said mockingly, pouting at Collins. "We just wanted Mommy and Daddy to sleep longer!" Collins snorted.

"Is Benny up, then?" Mark asked. Just as Collins began to nod, Benny himself showed up, bleary-eyed and slurring.

"Open the damn presents and get it over with," he declared, plopping down on the couch tiredly.

"Yes, ma'em," Mark saluted and Collins scampered down to join Mark and Roger beneath the tree.

"Which one is mine?" he asked, eyes scouring the gifts.

"Here's one," Mark said, handing Collins a bottle shaped present. "It's from me."

"I think I know what it is," Collins sang, and whipped the paper of faster than anything. "Stoli! Aww, you shouldn't have," he cooed and looked at the bottle of alcohol fondly.

"Jesus, Mark! You spend that much on alcohol but nothing on my gift?" Roger scolded, pretending to be angry. Mark just rolled his eyes and ignored Roger's comment.

"Here's one for Benny!" Collins nearly shouted and tossed something over to Benny who was asleep on the couch. When the parcel smacked him on the chest, Benny quickly came-to and then began to open the present.

"From Roger," he muttered, opening the present a little more cautiously. Then a grin lit up his tired face. "It's a picture of a Range Rover," he laughed and examined it closely. "Damn nice car. Thanks, Roger." Roger beamed at him and then demanded a present of his own.

"Here's the present from Collins," Mark said, handing over something wrapped in a newspaper. Roger, grinning, felt the package and then frowned.

"You got me _clothes_?" he demanded, glaring. "Only the worst person in the world gives someone clothes on Christmas."

"Unless you're poor," Collins reminded him. Roger thought, shrugged, and then opened the present curiously.

"A pair of pajama pants?" Roger asked, more stunned than bewildered. "And they're… plaid?" Collins nodded, grinning.

"I thought they were your style," he explained and opened his Christmas present to take a swig from it. Roger looked at Collins and then at the pants, slowly letting it process. The more he looked at them, the more he liked them.

"I think I could pull this off," he mused, touching the warm flannel thoughtfully. "Thanks."

The rest of the morning passed peacefully, everyone taking a swig from Collins's various bottles of Stoli (it turned out that everyone got him one, except for Benny who had bought him paper bags to wrap the bottles in) and opening the rest of the presents while chattering and bantering and getting more drunk than they've possibly ever been.

It suited them just fine.

(End flashback)

**A/N: Well, this was so much fun to write. ;D **

**Merry Christmas or Hanukah or Kwanzaa or… whatever you happen to celebrate this time of year. :D **

**Oh, and the "Wonderful, awful idea" belongs to Dr. Seuss, not myself. Yeah. **


	19. Acting Classes and Time for Reconnecting

A/N: Okay, I didn't get any reviews last time… though I didn't really wait that long… about a day or so… ANYWAY I really liked

**A/N: Yeah, I know, it's been a while. Sadly, I think this story is at the point where there will just be random updates. :( Sadly, that is life I guess. **

**Also, another note, I'm just going to abandon any attempt at doing Roger's little summary thing before each flashback. It's just awkward I think and I'm getting rid of it. Umm… if you're a fan of those or something I apologize. These things have to happen sometimes though. **

**One last note. This chapter is partly dedicated to LiveLoveRENT. You will understand why but you have to read to find out. So no more boycotting my stories. ;) This is also partly dedicated to hersheygal because it has some Mark goodness that I threw in there for you. Kind of. Let's just say there's quite a bit of Mark in this chapter.**

**PreRENT setting. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT**

I'm Ready For My Close Up

_An Act of Trust_

Roger was lounging around the table area, flipping through a newspaper that Mark had bought a week before with mild interest. He was really waiting for Mark to come home because he had to whine to him about something. Something incredibly important.

As if inspired by Roger's wishing, the door slid open and Mark himself wandered into the apartment space. He smiled at the sight of Roger and set his bag down by Roger's hand on the table.

"Hey Roger, what's going on?" Mark asked. His good mood evaporated when he saw the exasperated expression on his friend's face.

"Mark, this apartment is really boring," Roger stated flatly and went to lean back in his chair.

Mark looked around in confusion. "Roger… we live in New York. What in the hell is boring about that?" Roger glared at Mark for not taking his boredom seriously.

"No, really… there really is absolutely nothing to do," Roger insisted and raised an eyebrow at Mark. "Speaking of that, what were out doing all morning? I woke up and you just weren't around. It's almost noon now." Mark shrugged.

"Oh, you know, I was out buying some food," he explained and motioned to the grocery bag that he had set down on the table. "The bag is right next to your hand," he pointed out and grinned smugly.

"Well, that would qualify as having nothing to do," Roger rolled his eyes.

"Well, Jesus, Roger. Why don't you go out and find something to do?" Mark suggested as he picked up the grocery bag to go and put the few items into their respective places. "It wouldn't kill you. Don't you have a date with April or something?"

"Nope. April is visiting her parents all day and I'm not welcome in that house anymore," Roger explained and shrugged as if this was a perfectly natural thing to say.

Mark raised his eyebrows. "What did you do that got you kicked out their house?" he wondered in amusement.

"Besides Mark," Roger continued as if Mark hadn't responded at all the first time. "Going outside _could_ kill me. I could get hit by one of those crazy taxi drivers," Roger described and shrugged. "Imagine having to die knowing that you might be bored for the rest of your life."

"You're especially annoying today," Mark noted calmly from the kitchen. "What's going on? Are you high or something?"

Roger rolled his eyes. "That's not all I do you know. Really, it's like you think I'm nothing but a dope head."

"More like a smack head," Mark corrected with a smirk. "Alright, since you're so terribly bored why don't you look through that newspaper? I'm sure it has events and all in it."

"I looked," Roger snapped, offended. "There really wasn't much of anything in there."

"Oh come on," Mark rolled his eyes and walked over to the table with the newspaper on it. "There's bound to be something in it."

Mark snatched up the paper and began to scan through the back section looking for ads of some sort. He looked for about five minutes (which was something that only irked Roger more) until he triumphantly slid a page over to Roger and smiled.

"Check out that ad," he suggested and pointed to a section on the page.

Roger rolled his eyes and began to look. Confusion spread across his face as he read out loud, " 'Bennett Group Session: This ain't therapy or fun. It's just conversation'?" Roger raised his eyebrows and sent an odd look over to Mark. "I don't know what you're trying to say to me with that but either way that guy sounds like a fucking dumb ass."

"Please, Roger," Mark sighed and shook his head. "The other ad."

Roger furrowed his eyebrows and read the other ad. "Um, you want to get swim lessons at a local swimming pool? I don't trust that pool. I know we haven't been living here for very long or anything but seriously that pool is gross."

"Dammit Roger," Mark groaned and this time pointed at the actual ad. "I meant _that_ ad."

"Specifics are your friend," Roger muttered darkly under his breath but looked at this new ad all the same. "Acting classes?" Roger asked with amusement. "Oh, that's lame Mark. That is fucking lame."

"Hey, you wanted something to do," Mark pointed out and shrugged his shoulders. "It's free the first time you go. I figure you can spend today there or something."

Roger looked at the ad, thinking it over. "Only if you do it too," he decided and nodded his head.

Mark made a face. "Roger, you know that I can't act worth anything. Remember the event of the fifth grade play?" he asked, causing Roger to snigger.

"Yeah, but it's no fun to do something like this all by yourself," he pouted, quickly losing his chuckles to look serious.

"Fine, I'll go with you," Mark agreed with a heavy sigh. "I'll just want to kill myself afterward if you don't mind."

"It might be fun," Roger grinned and he jumped up to grab a coat. "Let's go!"

"Don't you want to change out of those pajamas?" Mark asked, looking slightly amused. "I doubt Collins will appreciate knowing that his gift was not being taken care of."

"Nah," Roger explained as he slipped into his thin sweater and turned to face Mark. "I think I might just wear them all the time. They're sort of _rad_." Roger winked and then walked to the door. "Come on, if we're going to do something stupid let's just do it now."

…………………………………………………..

"Why are we doing this again?" Mark hissed as he and Roger took a seat in the middle of the floor of a local community center.

"Because it's free," Roger whispered back. "It was _your_ damn idea too."

"If you weren't so annoying when you're bored…" Mark muttered darkly and fell silent when the instructor gave him a sharp look.

"We're going to start with an exercise of trust," the man explained in a deep voice. "Get with a partner and allow the smaller one to fall back onto the bigger one. The idea is that there's enough trust in the smaller person to know that the bigger one will catch them. Then you can switch."

All at once people started to stand up with animated chatter, partnering up with friends or people that they already knew from the class.

Roger grinned over at Mark. "You want to be partners?"

"Yeah, I guess," Mark agreed with a sigh and stood up. "But only because I don't know another person in this place. Let's see which of us is taller." Roger shrugged and stood up to his full height.

"I think I'm taller by about five inches," Roger decided and laughed down at Mark. Mark frowned and surveyed the height difference.

"It's not that I'm small…" Mark protested quietly as he turned around.

"I know. I'm just tall," Roger rolled his eyes. "Now fall backwards already."

Mark hesitated. "Roger, I don't really trust you." Mark could practically feel Roger's pout from behind him.

"We grew up together and you don't trust me?" Roger whined, causing Mark to sigh in annoyance.

"Okay, let's just get this over with," Mark grumbled and adjusted his glasses. He looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and began to lean backwards.

"Oh shit!" Roger yelled from behind him suddenly, causing Mark to begin to flail his arms in surprise and fear.

"What?!" Mark screeched and tried to right himself but it was too late. Gravity had already claimed poor Mark and he was falling (rather ungracefully) towards what he was convinced was going to be hard concrete.

He instead Roger's hands caught onto his upper back and shoulders.

"Jesus Christ, I was going to catch you," Roger sniggered as he righted Mark again. "I just wanted to freak you out a little."

Mark's face was bright red as he wheeled around to face Roger. "That's why I don't trust you," Mark explained but there was a weak smile on his face. Roger punched Mark's shoulder lightly and grinned.

"Okay, let's see if you catch _me_ now," he suggested while Mark grimaced. Luckily for Mark though the instructor called the group back to attention and began to talk about acting and how it was a gateway to the soul.

Roger and Mark settled back down onto the ground obediently but immediately began to whisper sarcastic comments to one another about something the instructor was talking about. They also performed the various theater games that were required of them but with a mocking goofiness to their motions that caused the other to laugh so loud that the instructor was always snapping at them.

And that was it.

………………………………………..

"I can't believe you improvised so well," Mark commented back in the Loft that evening as the two put a thin layer of cheap ketchup on a slice of poor bread to eat.

Roger just shrugged. "I learned how with April," he explained with a wink. Mark just made a face.

"Don't even want to know," he complained and took a bite into his makeshift sandwich. Roger laughed long and loud at Mark's reaction.

"What's with the cheerfulness?" a loud voice called as the sliding door came open. "Did Roger get Mark high again?"

"No," Roger insisted, stopped laughing and went to go greet his roommate. "I learned my lesson from that."

"I'm a better drunk," Mark added as he also went to meet Collins. "Where the hell have _you_ been all day?"

"I've been out and about…" Collins said mysteriously, revealing his large white teeth in a smile.

"Did you get a job?" Roger asked curiously as he shut the door behind Collins.

"It's practically in my grasp," Collins affirmed with a glowing expression on his face. "A teaching job at a little place called M.I.T.," he added with a laugh and raced toward the kitchen.

"M.I.T.?" Mark yelped as he ran after Collins. "_The_ M.I.T.? Collins, that's excellent!"

"You bought food?" Collins asked innocently, changing the subject. "I was going to say we should go out and celebrate but this is just fine with me." Collins pulled out an apple and began to munch on it thoughtfully. "So what did you guys do all day? You're all… happy looking."

"We just hung around," Mark answered before Roger could go into detail about their embarrassing activity.

"Yeah, we talked and stuff," Roger agreed and took a bite out of his previously forgotten sandwich.

"… Really?" Collins asked in a delayed reaction. "That's what you guys did all day." Mark and Roger nodded but didn't meet each other's eyes. "Okay then. That's really weird." But Collins shrugged it off and took another bite out of his apple.

"Oh, man I think April should be home by now," Roger exclaimed as he took a look at a nearby clock. "I really should go meet her at her apartment."

"You still kicked out of her parents' house?" Collins asked in amusement, shaking his head in contained laughter.

"He knew about this before I did?" Mark asked accusingly, feigning hurt.

"You're still my main man," Roger assured Mark, rolling his eyes. "Calm down Sandra."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" Collins laughed. "Is he your main man or your main girl?"

"Shut up," Mark snapped good-naturedly.

"Seriously, I have to go. April will want to go get drunk and complain to me about her parents. I'll see you tomorrow morning," Roger quickly explained and put on his coat again.

"Aren't you going to change out of those pajama pants I gave you?" Collins asked, a frown on his face.

"Roger thinks they're rad," Mark cut in before Roger himself could explain, smirking. "He's wearing them all the time now."

"They're a fashion statement," Roger said, acting offended but winking at Mark. "Later." Roger then swung the Loft door open and slipped out before closing it behind him.

This left Collins to quickly begin interrogating Mark.

"So what's with you and Roger?" Collins asked quickly, eyeing Mark suspiciously. "You two seemed like you were enjoying each other's company." Mark was startled by this and took a quick step back.

"What do you mean? Roger and I are good friends," Mark explained, looking a little offended.

"Yeah," Collins admitted, "But you two were extra nice to each other. Joking harmlessly and all." Collins backed off then and shrugged, going back to his apple. "Was just wondering."

Mark suddenly realized something to quickly that he had to force the bark of laughter that threatened to escape this throat. He and Roger had regained their trust at that dumb acting class. That was what had changed.

**A/N: So tell me if you like this new layout. In a review. (hinthint)**

**And for anyone that got the "Therapy" reference (besides LiveLoveRENT who I already know got it) you're awesome! :) **

**And a huge apology to how weird and strange this chapter was. I didn't have it in me to try and rewrite it **_**again **_**though so… sorry. :) **


	20. Vicious Cycle

**A/N: I don't know if there's anyone still around to read this, but I was hit by an idea the other day and simply **_**had **_**to write it down. So, if there's anyone out there, I would appreciate a review. But you really don't have to. :) **

**Disclaimer: I don't own ****Rent**

I'm Ready For My Close Up

_Vicious Cycle_

Mimi was already storming down the steps, her face an angry storm cloud of emotion by the time Roger even got up to slam the door behind her. He stared at the door for a moment before flipping back around to go sit by the windowsill. His fingers ached for the guitar but he wasn't ready to go retrieve it yet. He was too damn mad to trust himself with the delicate strings of his acoustic. He didn't have the money to replace them if they broke.

He and Mimi just had the fight of the century. The fifth one that week, in fact. Roger couldn't understand why they kept having the need to pick at each other. Why did they have to get under each other's skin and twist it around? Couldn't they just love each other and get over it? Apparently not.

Roger supposed it had to do with the drugs, mostly. Mimi continuously promised to get off of them but then inexplicably kept returning to her drug dealer whenever Roger's back was turned. He knew it was hard. He'd been down that road before and he knew the hell recovery could put a person through. But in his eyes, Mimi just didn't seem to have any damn self-control. Roger often wondered if she only told him she was getting clean because it was what he wanted to hear. The thought of her manipulating him sometimes sent him into such a rage that he was not responsible for the words that flew violently from his mouth. Such as times like this one.

Maybe his distance was a problem, too. Roger didn't want to admit it, but he knew that he could be moody and quiet. The opposite of what Mimi needed. Mimi needed someone who would listen to her attentively and tell her jokes throughout the day. She needed someone with a positive outlook and patience that was miles long. That guy wasn't Roger. Not by a long shot.

But, damn! Why did she make him so _mad_? It was like she went out of her way to piss him off. The rational part of him knew she probably didn't but the angry part of him followed this notion as if it were law. It was her own damn fault and it would always be her own damn fault. Roger refused to feel guilty about this fight. The one that _she _had started.

She'd come into the Loft, his sacred apartment, and cheerfully asked him how his day was. He'd grunted in reply but when he looked up from his notebook to give her a kiss hello he noticed something odd in her eyes. They were glassy and flat. She was high.

He'd yelled at her, already irritable due to his dry spell that'd lasted all week and the fact that there wasn't enough money for food. He'd called her out for her fatal flaw.

She'd gotten defensive, claiming that she had just needed this one hit but after this she would be done. She'd claimed that it had been a bad day at work and one of the girls overdosed again, her best friend in fact, and she had needed to deal with it her own way. So please, she'd begged, don't be mad. Don't be mad, don't be mad at me.

He'd called her a flake and accused her of being a liar. He said that she would never quit the drugs, not even for him and knowing what he'd been through. He'd suggested that maybe she would have quit for Benny.

She'd called him a bastard and accused him of never believing in her. She'd accused him of never loving her but only using her as someone to ease the pain of April.

He'd suggested, cruelly, that maybe she was right. He'd added that maybe she never loved him either but used him as a rebound from Benny. Her ex-boyfriend. He'd suggested that maybe she used him as an escape from her shitty life.

That was when she finally looked as if he had smacked her in the face. The glassy look seemed to finally be gone from her eyes, for that brief moment of pain, and she'd said she was done. That she couldn't do this anymore. And then she'd left. And he was left all alone.

Roger didn't think he was in the wrong. He thought that Mimi should have never come to see him after getting a hit. He thought that she should take responsibility for her own actions and give a damn about her own life. Mimi wasn't Roger's problem and she never would be.

After five minutes Roger felt cooled off enough to grab his guitar. After ten minutes of playing Roger felt cooled off enough to try to write a song again. After twenty minutes of trying to write a song Roger felt like a jerk. After thirty minutes Roger remembered how much he loved Mimi and was struck by a pang of guilt because of the things he had called her. After an hour, Roger tried to think of a way to try and apologize to her. He could forgive her if she could forgive him. It was their vicious cycle, their destiny, to hate each other and then forgive each other after all.

After ten minutes of thinking, Roger started to write a song again.

………………………………………

The next day, Roger was trying to adjust the phone when Mark found him in the Loft. He glanced at Roger with his legs crossed on the floor, guitar cradled in his lap, and the phone faced towards him on the ground.

"What's going on?" he asked curiously, moving to the table to set his stuff down. Roger glanced up and then glanced back at the phone.

"Apologizing to Mimi," he explained simply before pulling a notebook out in front of him as well. He had the words mostly memorized, but he didn't want to mess this up.

"Good luck," Mark said with hardly a trace of a smile. He'd been trying to keep up with their mood swings for weeks and he was beginning to stop caring. They would take care of their problems regardless of Mark's knowledge of them. He was just trying to keep surviving.

Roger nodded to let him know that he heard before carefully dialing the number to Mimi's apartment. He heard the phone ringing below him and he waited to see if Mimi would answer or not. He knew it was late at night but he also suspected that perhaps she would be too high to answer the phone. When her answering machine picked up he knew she was too high and felt the anger flare up once more. But he let it pass because he loved her too much to let it control him. Not this time.

"_Hi, this is Mimi!"_ her perky voice blared over the phone and Roger had to smile. _"I'm not in, so leave a message and I'll give you a call back when I get it. Gracias." _Then there was a familiar tone and Roger took a deep breath. He raised his voice so it could be heard over the phone that was on the ground and began to pick a tune on his guitar. He played the wrong chord once but then quickly fixed it.

"I'm sorry for getting so mad," he began to sing shakily. "I know you've got problems and that it's hard for you to bear." He could sense the corniness of the song and tried to sing past it. "Just trust me when I say that I miss you. Even though you only left a short, short time ago. Please let me try to take care of you and let me back in your life again. I can't give up on this. I love you too much to let you go. Mimi, Mimi, Mimi let me try again."

Roger played the last quick chord and then lifted the phone up to his mouth. He wondered if he should say anything to her with words but decided against it. He hung up the phone instead and sat back to wait. He wondered if she could even hear him of she would just get a message full of guitar chords. She would probably know it was him, anyway. He just wished he'd found the time to come up with better words. But it served his purpose well enough.

Roger set his guitar back in its place and fiddled with the notebook before going to place it on the table as well.

He thought he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Then a knock came at the door and he nearly ran over to answer it.

She came into his apartment smiling and her eyes were glass free. They were red from crying last night but she was sober for the time being. She said that she was so sorry.

He told her it was all okay. That it was more his fault than hers. He hesitated, wondering if he should hug her or kiss her or just let her stand there.

She ran to him and let him scoop her up into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and wrapping her legs around his waist. She told him that she missed him too and that the song was the best one he'd ever written.

He said he hoped it was the best one and then hugged her tighter. He told her again that he was sorry, so sorry.

She clung to him and asked if he really loved her. He told her that he did, of course he did. She said that she loved him too, so much, and that she was going to quit the drugs. He didn't care that he knew it was a lie.

Mimi finally jumped out of his arms and wiped away some extra tears. "Want to come down to my place?" she asked, clutching his hands and telling him with her eyes that she didn't want to be without him tonight.

"Of course," he agreed and followed her without another word down the steps.

He could forgive her, even if it meant another fight later down the road. He would always find a way to forgive her no matter what. As long as she could forgive him too, he would always be there. Somehow.


End file.
